


Bonding through Bruises

by BlindFanFiction



Category: Gorillaz
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Canon Temporary Character Death, Future Character Death, Graphic Description, Kidnapped 2-D, Kidnapping, M/M, Obsessive Behavior, Oral Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Satanic resurection, Stockholm, Stockholm Syndrome, Substance Abuse, Unhealthy Obsession, Unhealthy Relationships, Unrequited Love, graphic noncon, graphic smut, illegal substance use, medical substance use, mentions of satanism, search party of two, shangri la
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-01
Updated: 2015-04-01
Packaged: 2018-02-15 16:58:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 30,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2236557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlindFanFiction/pseuds/BlindFanFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Murdoc kidnaps poor 2-D, for what seems like the umpteenth time, things seem a little out of place. This certainly isn't like it was before, and 2-D is not entirely sure it's worth putting up with the wicked Demon bassist. What choice does he have? With a satanist, some stolen money, and a bag of what Murdoc likes to call "medicine" 2-D will begin to see the lengths of Murdoc's little obsession.<br/>____________________________________________________________________</p><p>Russ and Noodle know for a fact this is not a ploy to get the band back together, but when they can't make authorities see that they decide to take matters into their own hands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: More than you can chew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [koujadickcosplay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/koujadickcosplay/gifts).



> The other chapters are longer. This one is simply the prologue. This was a work I started a while back on Fanfiction, thought I would move it to AO3. Since I decided to pick it up again I thought people here may enjoy it as well. With that said, I hope you all enjoy. Leave comments and such, I thoroughly enjoy them so don't be shy. 
> 
> I have also gifted this to the lovely DaveKat; Thank you for convincing me to post this here. I do hope people will enjoy it as thoroughly as you have been.

He didn't know how many times the band had broken up now. How many times had Murdoc talked him into coming back? (Or in more desperate instances, kidnapped him.) He did know this however, this was one of those desperate times. He lay on the bed, sheets and pillows all a mess. The bedspread was strewn half way off the bed and onto the floor. Feathers from one of the down pillows kissed the mattress and floor, like Murdoc's fists left kisses of purple and black on his skin. His body itself was adorned in bite marks and bruises. The lace of the outfit was a drying white liquid that stained his stomach. Some of his own reproductive fluids to remind him that no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he fought it, his body still responded with a type of masochistic delight.

He grabbed the torn pillow, the one he very clearly remembered sinking his teeth into. His thrashing had been enough to rip a decent sized hole in it. His eyes shown the death of soul, empty, even emptier than they already were to begin with. Rolling onto his side he pulled the pillow to his face and curled into a ball. Holding the pillow in place with his knees, his hands raised and grabbed hold of his blue locks and pulled as hard as he could, screaming

into the remains of the pillow. This was his point of no return. THIS was all there was. He and Muds like he'd always wanted. But why, oh god why, did it have to be like this?


	2. Here we are again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A messy hotel room, an angered Mudsy , and a worried kidnapped Stuart. Not much else to say here. Read on my Blindworms.

Tied up, gagged, chained, locked in a trunk. Murdoc was really serious this time. 2-D let his head hit against the floor of the trunk in a melodic pattern. It wasn't like he had anything to damage anyway. This was the routine. He'd be stolen away by the crazed lunatic and in turn he would sing for him. That's how it always was. But Stuart couldn't help feel like something was different this time. Like maybe the rope was a little too tight, the chains a little too heavy. Or perhaps it was all just his imagination. He tried to keep his mind preoccupied.

He wondered where Muds was taking him this time. It must have been somewhere crazy,since the drive was taking forever. Whatever, as long as it was nothing like that horrible, awful, godforsaken plastic beach. He hated that place. Yes it could be anywhere but there, anywhere. A strand of his hair shifted and tickled the bridge of his nose. He wished he could blow it away, but the cloth being used to gag him was preventing that. He shook his head and by complete accident smashed his head into the bottom of the trunk again. He groaned into the rag and sighed out his nose. How much air does a trunk hold anyway?

As he sat and pondered such a thought there was a clicking sound and the trunk sprung open. A blinding blanket of street light hit his eyes and he blinked it out of those fractured orbs. When he regained his ability see, the light revealed Murdoc standing over him. The green man jutted out a hand and ripped the gag from 2-Ds mouth. It was pulled so harshly that he could have lost his two bottom teeth as well. He coughed and licked his cheeks and the roof of his mouth to get the saliva flowing. He looked up at the demon, an ironic god among men in 2-Ds eyes. Murdoc rested a hand on his hip and scowled, those sharp teeth showing, his brow furrowing. He quickly undid Stuarts legs from the rope and chain.  
"Alright Faceache...move it!" He guided the bluenette by the rope around his hands.

"Whah aa' we Muds?" He asked worriedly. With one look at the run down town he could tell this would be nothing like their trip to plastic beach.

"We'ah at a motel, obviously. Anyone with half the intelligence of a cahbbage could guess 'at!

"Oh weww whah we goin'?" He had become so used to the idea of being kidnapped (and the insults) that his only real concern was where he was going, and if pizza was available.  
"You'll see when we get there!" Murdoc hissed at him. He took it as a hint to be quiet. 2-D smiled and just trusted in the green scum that it wouldn't be that bad this time around. He trailed behind murdoc with a lanky kind of walk as always. And as always his clumsiness shown through when his foot came down on a beer bottle and he slipped forward. He made a noise of fear and shielded his face but to his surprise he didn't hit the ground. Murdoc sat him back up and growled angrily.  
"Watch it dullard! We don' need yew puttin' anotha dent in yur head!" He mumbled to himself as he made his way to the end of the parking lot and grabbed the door handle walking into the motel.

"Um, Gee fanks, Muds." he bit his lip in signature 2-D style and then jogged to catch up with the satanist.

The demon took hold of the shackles again and walked to the front desk and rang the bell on the counter. There was some wrestling from behind a door behind the desk. After a few minutes the rustling stopped and the green man was tapping his foot anxiously.

"How much time does someone need tah get tah a sodding desk?!" He slammed his fists hard against the old wood top and a scrawny, ugly man with messy black hair, and slightly crooked teeth stumbled out while buttoning up his pants. The man looked at the demon and leaned on the desk.

"Can I help you?" He said with an irritated tone. 2-D ducked behind Muds to hide from the less than friendly man. Not that it really did much since Murdoc was shorter than himself.

"Finally! Some bloody service!" He hissed. "One room." he slowly placed his hands over the bluenettes to hide the shackles.

"That'll be thirty dollars then." The other man spat back. Murdoc fished through his pockets a moment pulling out a moth eaten wallet and the money needed. Probably something he'd stolen as it wasn't likely he saved any from the last album. The man handed him a key and the green man lead the bluenette quickly away, hoping the man wouldn't notice the cuffs.

The room was muggy, humid, with no air conditioner or fan. The sheets were already a mess from whoever had stayed there last and the walls were stained with beer and cigarette smoke. Murdoc flung the singer at the bed making him land harshly on his back. Reaching, and fumbling around in his pockets the demon produced another key. He yanked the younger man's wrist and began to undo the wristlets.

"Fanks Muhds, I Wrewy aperciate et." he spoke with stutters. His hands rubbed his frail wrists to sooth them. Murdoc removed his shirt, sickly green skin revealed before he flopped on the bed. There was a long nervous silence between the two of them as Murdoc attempted to rest after the long drive. Who even knew the last time Muds had really slept? The demon took in rasping breaths, but seemed relaxed none the less. 2-D was beginning to feel even more uneasy, if that was possible.

"M-Muhds? Wah a' vah shmokes?" He twiddled his fingers nervously hoping he wasn't going to disturb the other by asking. It had been a long time since he'd been hit, since the band had broken up again and all. He didn't want to be hit now, not when they were just getting back together.

"Nnng, over in the pack over thay'." He answered after some time. Tooey followed the invisible line from Murdoc's finger to a backpack. Clumsily he scrambled over Murdoc to get to the bag, which he proceeded to unzip and fumble through.

His brow furrowed at the contents; Porn mag, porn mag, porn mag, Lube, 58 condoms, SMOKES! He snatched up the cigarettes quickly and zipped everything back up. He blinked and scurried back to the bed and sat down. Mud's, with no question needed, produced a lighter for him from his pocket.

"Now stay quiet and let me sleep yah damn dullard." He growled in warning. Stuart flinched as he took the lighter and sucked down to light. He puffed in long drags, blowing it out through the gaping hole where his two front teeth should have been. He began to ponder the contents of the green mans bag. Who needed that many condoms anyway? Well being shameless as he was, and having forgotten the warning he spoke up.  
"Muhds, Why yah got sho many cundums in yah bag?" His dark eyes blinked a few times in clueless curiosity.

"I don' know!" The man screeched. "Maybe I might pick up a few birds while we're out and on the road? Not like I can be sure of when I'll meet someone stupid 'nough ta bugger me. Now I thought I told you to stay quiet!" even with the yelling the answer was good enough for stuart who simply shrugged and went about smoking the cigarette.

When he had finished stuart lifted himself from the bed to search for an ashtray. None to be found however. This resulted in the bluenette gathering saliva on his tongue and spitting it onto the carpet. It was an old nasty hotel room anyway, no more damage could really be done. He knelt, scrawny legs bending so he was squatting, and placed the glowing cherry into the small puddle of spit. It made a hissing noise as it was put out, singing the carpet only slightly. He used his shoes, which he still hadn't taken off, to put out any glowing bits of rug. He then removed his shoes and scooted back onto the bed.

His head was now pounding, like a thousand trains racing over tracks ready to crash at any moment. He closed those empty eyes of his and tried his best to breath it out. No mercy from said merciless migraine. This was going to kill him. He let out a loud whimper and clamped his hands to his temples. Rubbing the temples proved to be pointless and his eyes began to water, the unsalty watering caused by pain. Another frustrated whimper.

"SHUDDIT FACEACHE!" Murdoc roared, very, very angry. Stuart hit the wall hard with his back curling his lanky legs to his chest.  
"I'm sorreh Muhds! It reawy 'urts! I 'ave a 'eadache. Ah need mah piws." He says in a loud whining voice that nearly squeaks and cracks.

"Well Shyuddup or I'm gonna give it a reason tah hurt!" He snarls his words in a violent threat. The blue haired man-child whimpered some but tried to stay quiet. "Now either go the hell to sleep or Immunna knock yah lights out and make yah sleep!"

Having no other choice now stuart lay his head down, listening to the raspy breaths of the demon next to him. Some how the sound of the mans smoke ridden lungs wheezing was comforting to the bluenette. Who knew, maybe sleeping would help his headache some. He had some trouble getting comfortable but once he found it it didn't take him long to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So just rolling things out here. Next chapter we will catch up with Russ and Noods.


	3. What of the band?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Noodle and Russ make a plan! And Stuart and Murdoc go to Disney world! Not really, but yay!

Stuart had been restless all night, often waking to find yet another comfy spot. He was sleeping like a rock by the time morning came. He was only woken by the smell of cigarette smoke, which was stronger than it had been the night before. Rolling over he saw Murdoc in the doorway to the restroom. There was a cigarette placed between the man's thin lips. He shifted his lips slightly making the cigarette wiggle. Stu-pot blinked his dark eyes adjusting to the light. The sun coming through the window lit up the dust and smoke in the room to a burnt golden color. It was still rather early and there seemed to be no reason for Muds to be up yet, he usually slept in late as late could be. Normally it was dark by the time he even got up. It seemed however, that this was a special day.

"2 dents, glad to see yur awake then… Come on hop to it yah sodding slowpoke. We got tah get ah move on." He rolls his eyes as he stuffs toilet paper from the bathroom into the pack. Was he stealing that?

"Wha...Whay?" Pot rubbed his head. The headache had died down slightly, that was good. " Ah mean iid ain' even Tweawve yeht."

"Exactly…" Murdoc said in that gruff drawn out voice, smirk plastered on his face. That always made Stuart feel stupider than he already was. " We're wasting sweet daylight. Gotta move."

He seemed to be in a good mood but Tooey just couldn't be sure. He slowly lifted off the bed and quickly noted the smokes on the stand next to the bed where the light was. He took them and using the lighter next to them lit one. He proceeded to smoke puff after puff. Just as always the smoke slithers and floats out of the gap behind his lips.

"wha we goin'?" He tilted his head, blue locks shifting, big black eyes still staring in the same brainless way they had since the accidents.

"Disney world in Florida, A special kinda vacation." sarcasm laced his voice.

"Wreawwy?" His dark eyes grew big with excitement. This irritated the demon.

"NO! I TOLD YOU YOU'LL SEE WHEN WE GET THERE!" he snaps.

This caused Stuart to shield himself from a punch that would never come. Slowly lowering his arms and taking another drag from his cigarette. It makes a popping noise as it's removed from his lips so he can speak.

"Sowry, Muds. I guesh I can wait a Li'l bit longah." He watched muds pack away some things around the hotel and then motion for the dented man to follow. Which the bluebird did with no coxing. Murdoc led him out to the car he'd put 2-D in the trunk of. He was nervous to get back into the car while Murdoc threw the pack into the backseat. As soon as he heard the back door shut however, he immediately climbed into the lumpy, scratchy, passengers seat.

His lanky legs had to bend even in the front seat and it makes it a bit difficult to get comfy. As Murdoc joined him in the car he quickly gripped the seat belt pulling it. There was two metal clinging clicks as it went into the buckle. He let out a sigh of relief. If there was one thing he had learned about his time with Muds it was ALWAYS, no matter what, wear a seatbelt. He gave it a few tugs to make sure it was secure. Check!

Murdoc complained as he had to turn the key multiple times, with little but a sputtering sound from the engine. Finally after what seemed like forever the old car roared unhealthily to life, making stuart jump and clench his chest. offers an evil snicker to it. 2-D now trying to calm himself opens up his smoke pack and places one between his lips, having dropped his other one in the parking lot.

"You're going to have to cut back faceache. I don't know when we're gonna be able to get to another gas station." His hands tighten around the steering wheel till his green knuckles go white.

"Sowry, I's jus' mah 'eadache Muhds. I's 'urtin' again." he holds his head in one hand and puffs with another. Not another word from the demon. Left to his own thoughts Stuart decides to start conversations. "Sho, when ah noodle and Wrussel gon' show up?" He asked expectantly.

Murdoc twitches, sore subject, very sore subject. He didn't want to talk about this, not now, not when he shouldn't care anymore. With difficulty he avoids punching the steering wheel.

"Yeah Stuart, um… They're gonna be a bit longer than us. But I'm sure they'll be thah." Something wasn't right, he hardly ever called him stuart, only when trying to seem like a good person, or when he was upset. Then again it could have been Stu's imagination.

What of the band? What of the band?

"What do you mean there's nothing you can do?!" howls in a desperate cry at the Officer. Russel and Noodle stood behind her. The dark man puts a hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner. Noodle on the other hand, who is tall enough now to at least reach the woman's shoulder, takes to scowling silently at the cops and their lack of effort. Sure murdoc ran far and he ran wide, but he wasn't exactly good about covering up his tracks. There has to be something to lead them to him.

"Ma'am you need to go now. We've told you all we know, you can be sure that as soon as we hear anything more we will more than happily relay it to you." The officer speaks in that calm tone, the way a cop does when it's clear they don't really care, that they feel there's something better they could be doing with their time. "Besides Murdoc A…"

"F." Noodle corrects with another sneer .

" Murdoc F. Niccals, has kidnapped Stuart before. Isn't this usually a ploy to get the band back together?"

"It's still a kidnapping, you…" Noodle is cut off by Russ gripping her hand gently, in a calming way as the dark skinned male had always been the calmest. The petite asian woman looks up at the drummer before sighing and standing down.

"Come on Mrs.P," Russ says sadly. "There's nothing else we can do here. I'll take yah home."

After the two drop Stuart's mother off the two head out to the bar. Noodle sits down, at age twenty one she is now able to drink. She orders her and Russ a few beers and then proceeds to stare angrily at the counter. Russ pats her on the back and sighs. He isn't sure what to say. When their drinks arrive Russel takes to drinking first. Noods just simply grips her cup and stares into it.

"How could they say that...Murdoc has kidnapped Stuart before! Just a ploy! My ass!"

"Noodle!" Russ still wasn't used to his little girl cussing. And he knew despite Mud's ways, he wouldn't be too happy about it either. Stu however might not grasp the weight of the situation. "And I know baby girl, it get's me peeved too."

Murdoc Faust Niccals had made it very clear he did NOT want the other two to come after him. This wasn't about the band at all, this was about taking what was his. It's like he said, you can replace the instruments, but you can't replace the singer; and to , who in a comatose boys time of need 'nursed him' and 'took care of him', one Stuart Pot WAS his!

It was clear that anyone or anything that stood between the demon bassist and the angelic singer, Murdoc would do away with as soon as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Promise there will be some 'fun' in the next chapter. Things will pick up, I swear.


	4. 12D3, I want to be free

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuart stands up to Murdoc for once in his life. Things do not necessarily go as he had planned.

It had been a few weeks since the kidnapping and stuart sits holding his head tightly between two hands. His head is pounding with such a force he can barely stand it. They are in yet another hotel, mold ridden and the constant smell of cigarette smoke fills the room. They had managed to pick up seven packs at the last gas station, which was good since 2-D is a horrible chain smoker. Even with his hands pressed hard against his temples he holds a lit cigarette, every once in a while moving his hand to take a drag before quickly placing it back.

He wasn't exactly sure where Murdoc was right now, he had left poor stuart all alone in this stupid motel. Stu-Pot kicks the wall, not hard enough to break it, but certainly enough to make a noise. It is at this moment that the satanic saint walks in

. "Oi, dullard, stop trying to beat up the wall, it'd kick yer arse anyway." He chuckles and sets down his bags. One looks like it was bought at the grocery and the other is a bag that Stuart can't stop eying. Murdoc chuckles and nods. "Alright, alright yeh hungry dog, 'ere yah go yah mutt."

Murdoc tosses the bag to stuart, inside is a twenty piece nugget and a large fry. Pot licks his lips. For a moment his head ache is forgotten as he tears into the food, almost like a wild animal. Being hungry, low on smokes, without pills, and uncertain of how Murdoc was getting the money to pay for some of these things; was really taking a toll on the singer. Murdoc himself stares at the vocalist with a wicked grin, a grunt of amusement rumbling from his chest.

Stuart finishes and only to be spooked at the feeling of something heavy hitting his lap. He jumps and for a moment almost screams until he looks down. The satanist smiles, having tossed him a beer from the box in the bag.

"Scared of a little refreshment, faceache?" He asks with a genuine laugh. There's something weird about him. Tonight the insults come off like words of endearment, he's laughing like they are friends, not like they are constantly bickering, or ignoring each other.

Stuart lifts his head, something about this excites him for a moment. This was his god after all, maybe finally he sees that the blue-bird only wants to please him. A sense of happiness fills his chest and it shows on his face when he joins the other in laughing at himself.

"N-No, showwy, I jush washn' espectin' i'." He says as he picks up the can and cracks it open. The bitter liquid rides over his tongue and he gulps it down hurriedly.

"Ifyoo keep drinkin' like 'at yur gonna be drunk before we know it." The satanists smile never fades as he grabs himself one and joins stuart on the bed.

"Showwy, I wash jush reawry firsty." He says as he looks over to muds. There was a long pause before Murdoc finally speaks up again.

"Yew apologize too much, yew should probably not do tha'." Twooey thinks about apologizing again but stops himself.

The night is simple and rather calm, they watched the tele in the room for a while, some soap opera that Murdoc was pretty bored with. Stuart on the other hand seemed quite intrigued. Now both of them lay in the bed. Each had their given side. Stuart near the wall and Murdoc closest to the door. This was probably to keep stuart from getting away.

All is quite quiet until stuart stirred. His head is pounding ten times what it had been earlier and he can't stop himself from screaming in pain. He shoots up hands clasping around his cranial case. This is followed by sob after sob causing Murdoc to look at him, something resembling worry in his eyes.

"'Ey, Dullard." He asks, his tone more gentle though his voice nonetheless gruff. "Wha's wrong? 'eadache again?"  
"Y-y-yesh." 2D stammers. It felt like a thousand of the Satanists fists coming down on his head all at once.  
Murdoc sighs. He knows a good cure for something like this. The problem is finding where to get it. Judging by the rundown motel room however it shouldn't be too hard to get what he is looking for.  
"Alrigh' alrigh'." He says giving in. "I'll getchya somethin' to stop it just stay 'ere and don't run off. Yah 'ear me?" he is partially concerned and partially threatening. 2D doesn't answer but Murdoc takes that as a sign he is in too much pain to do so.  
Slowly Murdoc lifts himself off the bed and moves to the door exiting. This leaves Stuart alone. He lays on his stomach, forehead mashed into the pillow in some useless attempt to ease his pain. He begins to contemplate why he is still here, he should run while he has the chance. Hopefully his headache will subside and he will be able to make a break for it while Murdoc is gone.

However, hours pass and Stu Pot is still stuck with his head in his pillow, headache still prominent but died enough that he can look up at a small alarm clock in the room. It's been approximately two hours and seventeen minutes; no sign of the ugly sod. He slowly pulls himself from the bed and starts to walk to the bathroom.

Running water he splashes some onto his face. He looks up into the small mirror above the sink looking into his own black eyes. Murdoc did this to him. He opens his mouth. That too, the missing two front teeth. Why did he worship this man? He only ever hurt him. And now Stuart was feeling something he didn't know he could, anger. He huffs and moves out of the bathroom to see a smiling Murdoc standing there.  
"'Ey faceache!" He exclaims, a crooked toothed smile plastered onto his face, like it usually was when he felt accomplished. "I got yew somethin' fer that 'eadache of yours. Just come on over here and…" he is suddenly cut off.  
"I wan' tah go 'ome muhds." He states bluntly, as if any doubt in his mind had been cleared.

"Wh-what?" asks looking a bit confused. His smile is now nervous. "What yah mean yew wan' tah go home?" he seems in a state of panic as he runs his long gnarly fingers through greasy black hair. "We were 'avin fun drinkin' just a bit ago weren't we?" He asks stepping toward the bluebird.

Stuart backs up shaking his head. He didn't want to be here any longer. He was hungry, tired, he wanted his medication, and he wanted to see Russ and Noodle. He tries to stay to the wall so he can bolt for the door when he needs to.

"Muhds, I wan' tah go 'ome!" he says more demandingly causing the demon to freeze up a moment.

"Well… Well yah can't! And if yew think fer one minute that immuna let yew then yew got another think coming yew useless piece of shit!"

There was a tension about the room, an electricity seems to bolt between the two. Suddenly Stuart is making a charge for the door. He feels a bony hand grasp him by the stomach, nails dug in as he was tossed to the bed. Without missing a beat murdoc is ontop of him.

"I said yew ain't leavin' face ache!" he snarls. Stuart screeches only to have a hand clasped over his mouth. "Now shyuddup before someone 'ears yew!" He warns.  
Through his hands Murdoc can hear the singer mumble the words 'what do you even want with me.' This gets him to chuckle.

"Oh I tried to be nice, dullard! I tried to make yew as comfy as I could, even went outta my way to get somethin' for that 'eadache of yours. But I guess you don't wannit huh?" The bassist growls. Stu tries to struggle out of the green demons grip, but it proves to be pointless. "What I want with you? Oh...no no no. Now it don' matter what I wanted, cause I'm gonna get it. I'll just...take it.

He removes his hand but before Stuart can say anything his mouth is covered by thin chapped lips. He tries to close his mouth but it's too late, that long tongue slithers it's way into the vocalists mouth. The taste of tobacco, booze, and fast food fills his mouth and it takes a moment to adjust to the foreign taste. The long muscle slides it's tip over each and every remaining tooth, every inch of the roof of his mouth, and then resorts to teasing and tickling his gums where his teeth should be. He groans in protest.

Without missing a beat Murdoc starts to tear the singers shirt, literally ripping it off of him. His nails claw down the thin torso eliciting cries and moans that fill the demons mouth, much to his pleasure. He breaks the kiss to lift his head and get a good look at his captive. He groans throatily and lowers so he can nipped at a pink perky bud on the singers pale chest, causing Stuart to scream in pain. The demon only ignored it and continued on to the next, letting that long agile tongue push against it. Stuart continuing to fight did little but make the green one more angry. He slowly began to sip his hands into the sides of the singers jeans. Lifting a moment he tears them down, taking the boys briefs with them.

2D gasps, clasping his hands over his now exposed body, perfect and bruisless as Murdoc had not hit him in some time. Though this is all about to change as a swift fist comes down to knock him in the rib cage, followed by another right above his abdomen. "Yew don cover yourself! I stripped you down for a reason you stupid git, now stop it!" He demands, taking the black eyed boys hands and pinning them down. He gets a good look at the pale form on the bed. To his dismay the rough approach had done nothing for the boy, who is still flaccid. He growls and smacks the boy harshly across the face, earning him a yelp. He begins to contemplate and a wicked smile comes over his face.

"M-muhds. Pwease shtop." The boy whimpered. The demon only shook his head and cackled. He was going to have fun whether Stuart Pot did or not. He removes his hands for a moment, knowing that 2D wasn't stupid enough to try and move at the moment. He removes his shirt and soon is working at his own jeans. He wears nothing underneath them and his member springs out, full of intent. He grips the boys bare legs pulling him close to him.

"Yer mine, Stuart!" He growls out viciously. He allows himself to groan loudly as he begins to rub his manhood against the boys backside. "Yew know what I'm gonna do to yew Stuart? Hmm?" The boy only whimpered in reply as tears began to fill his eyes. The demon chuckles as he angles himself. In a swift motion he pushes into the other. There is a loud scream and then silence.

Warm. Vibrating. Adorable whimpers. Unbelievable pleasure. His mind is a blur as he feels the boys tight unready insides clenching in pain around him. He waists no time moving his hips, medium paced at first to find himself again. "Stuart..." he groans as he thrusts a bit harder each time. His thrusts come in bursts of rough angry movement, paining and hurting the bluebird who yelps and cries under him, trying to push him away to no avail. He stops every few minutes doing what he can to make the madness of the event last.

As he pauses for what seems like the umpteenth time he examines their position. He adjusts so they are on the bed correctly, 2D's head on the pillows and himself buried inside. He searches the boys body down to the still limp muscle. He snarls in anger at this. Concentrating he begins to pound in again, he gyrates his hips, ignoring any please from the boy asking him to stop. "Stuart...fuck! Dullard yew are the tightest thing I 'ave ever...mmnnn yeah..." He looses himself until he hears a moan different from his own.

Stuart claws into the blankets fisting them into his palms, though he tries to still fight, misplacing the sheets till they are half off the bed. Murdoc chuckles. He tests the position again thrusting in as he had before. As he thought another moan spills from the boy. He seems to have found the vocalists weak spot. He lets the thought trully form before ruthlessly thrusting back in, the sound of smacking skin echoing in the room.

"Yew! Are! Not! Leaving! Me!" He growls between each thrust, each more harsh and quick than the last. Poor Stu pot soon finds himself arching his back. It hurt, it hurt so much and yet...why!? Why did it have to feel good!? The bluenette thrashes about until he can bite into his pillow with the teeth he does have. He bites hard and the moans are mangled and muffled from the fabric. Murdoc adjusts his eyes to the boys groin, sure enough the blue haired singer was getting excited.

The satanist groans louder, the sight being enough to make his cold heart throb in delight. He leans over and places his weight on the thin porcelain figure. He Snarls into the boys ear coaxing out another whimper. Shifting his hips he continues to abuse the cluster of nerves inside his slave, jolting pleasure through the eyeless ones body, and Stu can soon feel gooseflesh rising on his skin. Murdoc claws his nails Sharply into the boys ribs, and finding the exposed skin on the other males neck he sinks his teeth in.

Stuart can feel the teeth biting into him. First his neck, then his shoulders, chest, nipples. Everywhere burns and hurts and feels so good. He cries into the pillow and begins to flail trying to break away. The more he squirms however the more he pushes Murdoc into the spot that is making him so heated. He screams loudly through clenched teeth and throws his head to the side, tearing the pillow. The struggle never stops, feathers are flying everywhere and he is in a state of pleasure, pain, and most of all confusion. Murdoc lifts up to look at his handy work, which is starting to bruise purple, beautiful against the others skin. He groans and grips Stu Pots hips, angling him to ride in deeper. The bluenette screams again and grips the remains of his pillow.

The demon smirks at the member of the other, hardened and ignored, turning blue at the tip from neglect. He huffs and slowly brings a hand to it. When he has a good grip however, the strokes come fast, abusive, and rushed. "Mu'doc! Shtop...oh god... shtop! Pleashe I... ahn!"

"Say yer mine... say it! Tell me yer my bitch and it'll end you fucking useless cock sleeve." He growls.

The vocalist bites his lip in hesitant. He blushes. He wants it to be over but he doesn't want to say something like that, not to Murdoc Niccals, not to anyone. He keeps his mouth shut until the satanist slams hard into his prostate and repeats, showing no signs of stopping. "OKAY! OKAY! I'M YOW..." Before he can complete his sentence he feels himself explode, strand after strand of white liquid ropes from him and onto his bruised and bitten body. "b...bitch~" he breaths out the last word.

Murdoc groans loudly moving his hand and gripping the hips again. It takes about ten more quick hard thrusts before he cries out, his wicked thick seed filling the other until it is leaking from him. He shivers hard and shuts his eyes tight, giving a few more slow thrusts to get all of it out. He then, with a quiver, removes himself from the singer and slowly moves to sit at the foot of the bed. He reaches into his jean pocket, having never removed them fully and pulls out a box of cigarettes and a lighter. Igniting one he begins to puff. He stares out the singular window at the moonlight shining in.

After a few more puffs he can hear Stuart screaming and he turns to check on him. He is curled around the remains of the dismantled pillow and tugging his hair.

"Still got a 'eadache?" He asks, as though nothing had just happened. He gets a bunch of whimpers and it takes him a while to catch the yes. He retrieves a baggy from his other pocket and tosses it to the front man. Stuart looks up at it. There are pieces of paper rolled around...something.

"It's weed." Murdoc says simply. "It'll 'elp with that 'eadache." He goes back to smoking his cigarette. Stuart is hesitant to try it but after a moment he sits up and pulls the blankets over his lower half. Removing one from the bag he grabs his own lighter from the bedside table and lights up.

What was his life coming to?


	5. Saving Stuart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Russel and Noods start their roadtrip to find Stuart. Murdoc may have slipped.

Noodle pases the floor back and forth. It's been three and a half months now. There

hasn't been one damn thing done to get stuart back. She huffs and shakes her head. Russ sits in the recliner at their pad and watches her helplessly. She was like this all the time anymore. She runs her hands through short purple hair and mumbles to herself as she reaches for Russel's pack of smokes. She puts one in her mouth and lights it.  
"You know, baby girl; if you keep running your hands through your hair like that you are gonna go bald." The dark skinned man says, hoping to at least get a smile out of her. There is nothing however and she takes a long thick drag of the smoke. She exhales and then begins to speak.  
"I just don't know what to do Russel San." She says shaking her head as she goes for another puff. "I think maybe we should try to go after them, at least."  
"We can't risk that Noods, you heard what Murdoc said he'd do to us if we went after them. You willing to risk our lives over this? We both know he wouldn't actually ever hurt 2-D. He's not dumb enough to risk it."  
"Please Russ!" she cries scratchilly. She was really starting to lose her mind. "The cops won't do ANYTHING and we are the only ones who are even taking this, the tiniest bit seriously. And for all we know Muds could lose his temper and hurt Tooey by accident." She says seriously.

He hated to admit it but she was right, Murdoc wasn't exactly one for patience. Moreover, it sometimes took Stuart a while to catch on. His mind didn't once doubt that there could be horrible things happening to Stu-Pot. He could just see the demon tying the blue birds hands up and smacking him over the face to get some drunken kicks. He nearly threw up just at the thought. Sure Murdoc had done worse to stuart, but it was all while sober, and with careful precision despite what it looked like. They never left the singer and bassist alone while the satanist was drunk though.

"Alright baby girl. We'll start looking for them. Just… just get a few things packed up while I get the car started." He shook his head and stood from the recliner. The guitarist smiles slightly and nods as she moves into her bedroom first to pack some clothes.

Russel makes his way out to the car with the keys, turning it on there is a few sputters and then the sound of the engine stabilizing. He leans back in the drivers seat and sighs. This is a bad idea. Even if they do find him and get him that would leave Murdoc in shambles. Not that he really cares about the emotional state of the bassist, but there is something there a bit. They are all technically still family. He runs his hands over his bald head followed by placing them on the wheel. The asian woman runs out of the house with two suitcases in hand. She quickly stuffs both bags into the back seat and then hops into the front.

"Ready baby girl?" He asks.  
"More than I'll ever be." She says with a determined smile.

Murdoc's warm dry body moves on top of the singer. His hands trail over pale bruised skin and he groans loudly. It's another cruddy hotel room and Stuart is left gripping the headboard that his hands are chained to. The teeth he has clench together as small sounds escape him with every rock of his body. He wasn't sure what the worse part was; the fact that it was happening, or the fact that Murdoc was whispering compliments to him the entire time. And how could he make insults seem like compliments and compliments seem like insults. It all made the bluenettes head spin.

Murdoc grinds his hips hard against the singers backside and uses one hand to hold himself up. The other trails the other males torso. His long bony fingers trace the very slightly toned stomach.

"Yew...nn...look good like this...Dullard...mm hmm...mnnn. Yah know tha' ?" he growls and chuckles. Stuart couldn't help but feel like there was something the demon hated about this though.

"Pleashe...shtop Muhdsh.. I'm ah~~nn… r-reawy shore." It is a lie, his body had become accustomed to the green god. It didn't hurt like it used to. He hates the fact that it responds quickly now too. Everytime Murdoc starts to remove a belt he becomes hard with no reason whatsoever, sometimes even if he just sees the bassist drinking his body will get excited. Even now as the kidnapper rocks into him he moans and whimpers, his member laying swollen and neglected on his stomach.

It pounds and aches. So much pain in it with little to no relief. The sound of skin meeting skin he had become familiar with stops. Murdoc is huffing hard and he looks at the man beneath him.  
"You know Faceache, it's a real joy kill when yew ask me to stop, maybe beg for more or somethin...I don' know. Just STOP ASKIN' ME TO STOP!" He scolds. Stuart flinches and tries to move his hands but they jolt against his cuffs. His cuffs. He wore them enough anymore for them to be called his.

The pace starts again, the feeling of the motion returning. The feeling of Murdoc pushing in and out of him is overwhelming he huffs and lets out soft melodic moans that he wishes he could just keep in. The satanists moans continue right into his ear. They are deep, gruff, and full of pleasure. For some reason this gave stuart chills, every blue hair on his body stood on end, gooseflesh rising on his arms and neck. Then there is that feeling he had become so used to. The feeling of Murdoc's girth pounding, throbbing inside him. He knows very well what that entailed. The green male slides one arm under Stuarts back. His sharp, jagged nails dig into the flesh. Stu-pot lets out a moan, higher an octave than the others. The sounds that slide over his pale pink lips are increased when the Satanic bassist moves his hand to stroke the boy.

"Muhdoc!" He cries, as his reproduction spills onto his stomach. He feels himself tighten around the demon coaxing the other to release into him. Murdoc growls loudly cursing and swearing.

"I fuckin' luv yew dullard!" Murdoc says something, it is muffled and barely comprehensible through the fabric. Stuart gasps when he hears it. No, he couldn't of said that. No! This was crazy. No one in love would force the person they wanted to be with through that. That's right, that isn't what he heard he had just imagined it. This was all making his head hurt very badly.

He was beginning to develop a headache. Just as he was lost in migraine inducing thought, Murdoc slowly began to pull out of him. Rolling over the green man undoes one of 2-D's shackles. The other hand is still clamped to the bed. Murdoc crawls over Stu-pot and retrives a cigarette pack. They had begun stuffing the new 'medicine' into his cigarettes as to make things a bit less conspicuous.  
He pulls out a smoke and hands it to Stuart who takes it with his free hand. He didn't cry anymore after these things. Instead of crying he simply lights up and gets rid of whatever pounding in his head the Demon had made for him. Murdoc lights the cigarette and stuart puffs absent mindedly.  
"See faceache, yew should say my name like that more often. That was...fantastic." Murdoc breaths the last word in a half groan. His head hits the pillow. Stuart says nothing, simply puffs at the fag and ignores Murdoc. Murdoc grunts and scrunches his face.

"Yew don' 'ave to go bein' all cold to me. It ain't like I killed your cat, sheesh." The demon rolls his eyes. That's why he can't stand the satanist, no matter what he did to Stuart he didn't see it as something wrong, or something bad. It was just SOMETHING.  
"I wan' tah go 'ome Muhdsh." He says looking over at him. Murdoc's deep growling starts and he leaps up onto his knees on the bed. Stuart with his cigarette lowered gives him a questioning look that soon is wiped from his face when he feels a hand make contact with his cheek. He squeals and tries to kick at the demon who only gets out of range of his feet. The smacks come one right after the other. He cracks him hard with the back of his hand, knocking the azure haired male out. Huffing he checks pulse and breathing. Everything was still stable.  
He quickly takes the laced cigarette, as not to set the bed on fire, and puffs it. He looks over the unconscious male. There are purple and blue bite marks all over his torso, some red claw marks that swell slightly, and a few yellow marks in places that are healing up. He can't help finding the bluebird most beautiful like this. Blue bruises to match his hair. Murdoc's unmatched eyes trail over him and he reaches a hand out to gently rub one of Stuarts legs.

A thick plume of smoke rolls past his lips and he furrows his brow in thought. How could he of done this to 2-D. What did he ever do to deserve a beating? Sure it looked good on the Faceache but it hurt him too. He… NO! Now was not the time to be going soft. If he would have just cooperated with him he wouldn't have to hurt him. If he would just be a good little trophy and shut the hell up he wouldn't be smacked around so much.

Murdoc can't afford to go soft now. If he does he will lose Stuart Pot forever. He couldn't allow that. Not now. He would rather see him dead than roaming around free with somebody else. That's it. If there is ever a time where it's too near Stuart getting away from him he'll kill him. "Sorry Stu-Pot. If I can' 'ave yew..." He crams the cigarette down into the ashtray and looks to the unconscious singer. "...No one can."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww, Not cool Muds. Seriously this guy needs to Lay off Stuart. But hey, some of us fans who actually like a non-fluffy Murdoc will love this right? Righ!? I really hope I'm not alone.


	6. A Murder is a mans mistake to reverse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oops! Murdoc...slipped~? Eheheh.

Noodle stares at the spinning clothes in the wash. There is that soapy detergent smell of

a laundrymat. she can feel the weak strength of a ceiling fan trying to cool the room down. Instead the spinning blades only move the humid, sticky, afternoon air around. Russ wipes a few beads of sweat from his forehead and continues to shovel soba noodles and shrimp into his mouth. They had ordered chinese to go and were currently doing a bit of laundry.

Noodle adverts her eyes and uses her chopsticks to slip a piece of pork from her pork and broccoli dish into her mouth. She then turns her attention to the map she had in her hand. Places they had checked already were marked in red, places they hadn't in blue, and even some backtracking was done in green. She sighs and shakes her head, not entirely pleased with the results at hand. She wasn't sure how they hadn't come across Murdoc yet. She and Russ had always had a way of finding him. Then again, in the past he had always willed them to find them.

She puts a few more marks down on the map and taps her head, humming all the while. It's the guitar solo to feel good inc. She takes to chewing on the end of the pencil. She could really go for a smoke at the moment, but her mind was determined and one tracked on finding 2-D. She makes a few more sketchy marks on the map and looks up to Russel, who's white eyes seem fixated on the spinning of their clothes.

She folds the map back up and slides it into her pocket, then she takes the small box her meal was in and begins to finish it. Though she didn't feel as though they were any closer to finding the singer, she had to admit it was nice just to relax. Even if they were in some hot, cruddy, godforsaken, laundry room; eating chinese food out of a little semi cardboard box.

"What's the plan, baby girl?" Russ finally spoke up, before of course putting another bunch of noodles into his mouth and slirping.

"I say we head more north east, see if we can find anything up that way." She says as she thinks about their least searched direction. Not that they didn't have probably the entire world to search, but she had this hunch they were still in the U.K. Or at least somewhere in Europe.

"Alright, you got it. Whatever you say we do, you're the boss." He gives a nod and watches as the laundry finishes drying.

Noodle stands and begins to get their clothes from the dryer, placing them neatly back into the suitcases. She does this between bites of her food, and sips of her soda. She never once breaks stride, but that is noodle. Once she has her mind set on something she doesn't stop till it gets done. Russ finishes off his noodles while she works, and once she is done with her task she quickly shovels the rest of hers into her mouth.

The two give each other a nod and each picks up their own suitcase. They toss their boxes away into a trashcan that sits at the exit and then hop back into their car after tossing their suitcases into the trunk. Noodle gets comfortable and clips her seatbelt on, Russ following lead. Stuart was not the only one affected by Murdoc's driving it would seem. She gives Russ a look and a nod to let him know she is ready to move when he is. He gives the key a turn and there's the grinding noise of the engine as the car starts, and they drive off from the laundromat.

"How long are we planin' to search, Noods?" He asks looking to her a split second before focusing on the road again.

"As long as we have to." She says with a small shrug. Causing the drummer to sigh and shake his head.

"We've been at this for about four and a half months, we are gonna have to stop eventually, go back home. We ain't had a homecooked meal, or nothin' real good for us since we left. We can't live like this forever." He looks at her with a rather worried expression on his face. This wasn't healthy for either of them, especially Noodle. It was all she focused on and Russ is beginning to worry about her.

Instead of giving him an answer she reaches for a CD from the glove compartment. It's The Fall. The Album Stuart made all on his own. Russ sighs as she puts it in. Anymore it was her only way to find comfort. He gives a sad look which he directs to the road as he continues on.

Murdoc stops the car and takes a moment to look over at Stuart, who wears a rather worried look. The bassist squeezes the wheel of the car tightly and huffs a few breaths. 2-D had only been talking to an old friend he'd once known. A boy he went to school with. That however didn't seem to bode well, as Murdoc had gone deathly quiet, only to growl a demand that he get into the car immediately, after his old mate had walked away.

Murdoc was renting some crappy studio apartment for the time being, so he could actually take a break from running for just a few months. After all, Noodle and Russ couldn't be so stupid as to come after them after his warning, it was implausible. They knew he was dangerous, and more so when he actually meant to carry through with his warning.

The satanist huff more and leans closer to the wheel with an unearthly growl. He's angry and Stuart knows it. The bluenette presses to the car door, as though it will save him. However this makes him feel no less nervous about the current situation.

"Ge' out of the car, go up the apartment. Sit yer arse down on the fuckin' bed. And stay there. " The most terrifying part is that he isn't yelling. He is quiet, there is just that growling in his voice. Stuart nods his head in silent understanding.

"Stay 'ere until I ge' back." He continues. Stuart thinks about asking where his mate is going but Murdoc provides the answer before the words are out. "I'm goin' tah the pub."

Tooey isn't sure why but that excites him a bit and his face heats up. He tries to adjust himself so Murdoc won't notice. There is silence between the two till Murdoc slams his hand on the edge of the wheel with a great amount of force. In reply the blue bird jumps and opens the car door to book it into their apartment as the other had instructed him. He can hear the car pulling away as he does this.

He doesn't try to run away anymore, or ask to go home. He's all but given up on it. It's pointless anyway. Murdoc would only come after him again if he did manage to make it home. And if the bassist allowed him to go home it was only a matter of time till he changed his mind. With that at the forefront stuart take to the fridge in the apartment. He noticed the beer at the bottom of the fridge and with a sigh took a six pack. He then set about making himself a peanut butter and jelly sits on the bed and turns the telly on to watch whatever rubbish may be airing.

By the time Murdoc gets 2-D is already coming down from his drunken state. He still feels a bit of the buzz and he thanks Buddha that he doesn't have a hangover. He hears Murdoc's car pull up and after a minute or so he hears the 'fwump' of boots against wooden stairs. He wishes these walls were thicker now, because the sound of Muds heading up to their apartment makes the experience worse. (Or maybe better, his goosebumps betray him in his slightly inebriated state.)  
As expected the door flies open, hitting against the wall with a cracking sound, and Stu-pot wouldn't be surprised if wood chips flew off of the wall. Luckily they don't so they won't have to pay for repairs, which is good when they are getting to the point they can hardly make the rest every month. Of course all these thoughts are forgotten when sharp red and black eyes start to burn holes into him. He shudders and his breath catches in his throat.

" 'Ello, Stuaht." Murdoc chuckles, and although it is not shocking that the demon has a bottle of alcohol in his hand, the singer is shocked to see the handcuffs. No not shocked, scared. He knows what those mean and he hardly likes it, maybe he does, he can't tell anymore. His body does weird things, which is entirely frustrating during this already frustrating time.

"M-mudsh, put vose fings away, awright? I didn' do noffin', sho jusht calm down…" He's shaking now, he can hear his heart beat in his ears and his palms are sweating. Murdoc keeps stepping forward and for some reason the blue-bird feels that closing his eyes may make this more bearable.

The shackles find one of the singers wrists, bringing it behind his back, soon joining the other with it. He locks them tighter than normal, biting hard into Stuarts wrists. He whines, his heart sinking because he knows what comes next. He knows the pain (not pain, it no longer hurts too badly), the fear, and the initial need to be intoxicated. Smoke more of that damn medicine (it's weed he can't lie.) He shuts his eyes tight again, and to no surprise he is thrown back on the bed. The strange part is that he feels the wall behind his back, he is propped up.

The bassist straddles the singers legs, and it is far too confusing for the blue-jay, beyond unused to this kind of approach. Then the bassist has his hands on the taller mans shirt, his nails- no, claws to be exact- dig into the fabric and he tears it so easily that the other fears what would have happened if that had of been his skin. He shudders and swallows hard big black, blood filled eyes staring with complete terror at the older man. He has no clue what is going on, and another part of him is entirely upset that one of his favorite- and still intact- shirts was just destroyed. Of course his attention is redirected when the demon removes his shirt as well, revealing his sickly and repulsive body. This is of course what the other was expecting, but he becomes thoroughly confused when the other starts to remove the cross from around his neck.

"Well, well two dents, guess 'oo's gonna get a nice new scar?" The bluenettes brows furrow and he looks at the other confused. He doesn't like the sound of having a scar but he isn't entirely sure how the other plans to give it to him either. Murdoc pulls a zippo from his pocket, holding the metal inverted crucifix over it. "You a', I'm gonna make sure you're mahked up all nice like. Fuckin' dullard."

Stuart starts to shake pathetically, like the mistreated animal he is, like the quivering bitch he feels like, because the other has begun to heat the metal with the zippo. It thoroughly horrifies him and tears begin to roll down his cheeks, this is followed by choked out sobs as he tries to curl in on himself, it's no use with his hands behind him back and the demon upon his legs.

"Muhdoch, pweashe? I didn do nuffin, I shwear I been good this 'ole time." He starts to beg and plead with the other. It's useless though, because the wicked grin on the Bassists face only increases.

"Oh, course yah, didn't. Thought I wouldn' notice, aye?" The demon pulls the inverted cross from the flame and closes the zippo, setting it quickly on the bed and wrapping his free hand in his removed shirt, using it to keep from burning himself.

There is a loud scream. A blinding pain that courses through the blue singer. The sound is high pitched, something unfamiliar to even Murdoc. The smell of burning skin fills the air about the room. There is even a soft sizzling sound to accompany it as the form of the satanic symbol is burned fully into the vocalists chest, leaving it's mark. The green man laughs hysterically as the other tries to thrash away from him, his unaccompanied hand finding the singers throat and holding him still while he brands his skin.

To Murdoc he finds this delightful, the most permanent mark he can ever make on the boy, the harshest of punishments, the most assured method of owning him. And it is all wrapped up in the lovely experience of inflicting a severe burn on his frontman. He couldn't ask for anything more. He can feel blood rushing to lower regions of his body, muscles becoming attentive at the sight of the bastardous weakling below him. Sweet SATAN he loves it.  
When he finally removes the metal it is only because it has finished cooling, and he peels it away from the entirely destroyed swelling flesh on Stu-pot's chest. It bleeds in some places but most has been cauterized by the sheer severity of the heat. Stuart whimpers and sniffles, his eyes somewhat tired, and even Murdoc -in a drunken stupor as he is- doesn't doubt that he would have passed out if subjected to the burning any longer. His green boney fingers extend to brush along it. This coaxes a simmering hiss from the victim followed by cries and whimpers.

"I d-didn't do noffin'! I d-didn'..." His voice is afraid, confused, and pained when he speaks.  
"Oh~ Don' think I didn' catch chyoo flirtin' with thaht kid from your ol' highschool or what the fuck ever! I Saw what was goin' on there. No matter though. Don' gotta worry now. All mine now...heh heh. Got tah marks tah prove it too. Fuckin' pretty work if i do say so mahself." At Murdoc's statement Stuarts eyes widen.  
"Muhdshy, I wasn' flirtin' I wasn'. I was jush' talkin' wiff him, I…" He's cut off by a hard smack to the head, one that sends him crashing to his side.

"Shuddup! Did I fuckin' ask you! No! I know what I fuckin' saw you little slut! I'm not fuckin' enough am I!? I'm not enough for you!? Yew gotta get out there and have any piece o' dick 'at walks yah way, don't yew?!"

Stu-pot is about to speak up again when he feels a knee to his stomach. A fist to his side. And elbow in his ribcage, and he feels like he's going to throw up. He feels his hair being tugged hard and by now he has completely blacked out. He is pretty sure Murdoc has thrown him to the ground, he can't be entire sure, but he feels as though he's hit wood. He's stopped responding at this point, allowing the other to beat him completely. It's better than sleeping with him. No that's not what it is, it's being violated. A beating is so much better than being violated, he can handle a beating, or so he thinks. The last thing he feels is a hard kick to the temple and all is lost.

"Now, fuckin' get up you useless piece of shit!" Murdoc snaps, his sharp teeth grinding on each other. The blue bird doesn't move, doesn't answer, doesn't even whimper. "I said GEDDUP!" He screeches. Then it hits him. There was no response, no sound, not even a shifting of eyes behind lids. There was no sound of labored or shallow breathing.

"Stuart?" The question is said with a softness to it that not even Murdoc quite understands. He looks about the room because he can't believe that was his own voice. He can't believe he had that kind of gentleness in him. He clears his throat. "St-stu-pot? A'right, 'at's 'nough playin' dead, geddup...If yew a'e fuckin' unconscious I'm gonna beat the shit outta you ten times wo'se than I did just now." Murdoc is beginning to sober up.

He kneels next to the bluenette and smacks his cheek lightly a few times, he feels a bit clammy, gross even. It's unnerving. When he gets no response he lowers his ear next to the others mouth and nose, trying to catch a breath. There was none, none at all. His green skin raises with chills, hairs on his body standing on end. *No.* His hand moves quickly to turn the other over to undo his wrists from the handcuffs. He gets it done with fumbly hands, and it takes to long for his liking. His fingers rest upon raw wrists, testing for some kind of pulse. No. No! NO!

"Wake up! Fuckin' wake up Dullard!" He screeches, his body beginning to shake. His arms wrap around a lifeless body. He pulls him close and holds him tight, pressed hard against his bare chest. He shudders and shivers. For the first time in a very long time Murdoc feels tears pricking needles at the back of his eyes, that feeling of a ball in his throat. He doesn't even fight the tears, letting them fall with a haunting honesty. "Wake up Stuart. Oh fuck, please wake up Stu-pot! Please." His voice breaks and he nuzzles into the others hair, after all this time it still smells a bit sweet. This only serves in drawing more tears, more pain. His heart throbs hard, and he swears he can feel it shatter. He didn't even know he still had that, but he did now, because now he felt it break into a thousand tiny pieces.

He hoists the other into his arms, holding him like a bride as he stumbles over to the bed. He rests him on it, resting the blue mess of hair upon a pillow. His gnarled fingers brush softly over the beaten face. And even with 2-D on the bed Murdoc is able to pull the piece of furniture to the center of the room, though he does stumble and fall, due to his mental and emotional state. He has never felt so broken in his life. He positions the bed and hurries over to a drawer. He retrieves from it his candles and a book with what even appears to be wicked writing upon it. He grips his inverted crucifix hard and begins to place the candles in a circle.

"'S-s'okay, Stu-pot, s-s'alright. We'll getchya fixed up nice an' new. Promise we will." he says through sobs as he begins to set everything up. How could he be so fucking stupid, how could he kill -MURDER- the man he loves? How could he do this? He always said he was heartless, he never MEANT IT! He never thought he was capable of this. That's not to say he hadn't murdered before. He had. He had never felt one bit of guilt. This though, this was different! This was Stuart '2-D' Pot. HIS singer. His.

He quickly finds the ritual, and seeing as he does not have the time to grab a sacrifice he looks to his hand. It will have to do. It will have to. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath he sinks his teeth hard into the heel of his palm. It's a terrible feeling, the needle like teeth piercing flesh, denting and entering it, like contaminated medical shots. With a quick turn of his head he begins to bleed. A chunk of flesh now missing from his hand he spits it to the ground. This will have to do, it will have to. He readies to light the candles, and finds the page he needs in his book.

He is GOING TO bring Stuart back. If it kills him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry.  
> It will all be okay, If I don't keep Stu-Pot in the story we can't have Fun. Everyone relax and read on My BlindWorm's.  
> And keep in mind that the Next chapter will indeed be short. I apologize if this one is not well written, however, please keep in mind we needed a bit of a break from the seriousness.


	7. Dance with the DEVIL

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit of a suck-y chapter about Murdoc's conversation with an entirely Flamboyant Lucifer. Hope it at least makes you giggle.

After a lot of blood loss, some fading in and out of consciousness, the gates of hell being opened from the floor of the studio apartment, and a red lizard demon crawling out of the floor, Murdoc sits with the devil. He on one side of the room, Lucifer on the other, sat preppily upon the dresser of the wall nearest the door. The red demon seems to snarl at the green man, practically ready to hiss and chase him off. He doesn't look happy about the lifeless body of one Stuart Pot. That is of course to be expected. From his many visits with Lucy, Murdoc was able to derive that the dark lord had a rather soft spot for the blue haired wonder. This of course did not bode well for Murdoc.

The scary part about it all is that Lucy likes to talk with him without using words. The way his eyes pierce daggers into Murdoc, his tongue slithering out like a serpent ready to strike. And Murdoc never thought he would see the day that he would be scared of a red lizard man in a dress. The lord of hell tightens his pony tail and hisses. Soon that weird psychic talking starts once more and Murdoc cringes.

**You killed him.**

Murdoc trembles and swallows.  
"I...I didn't mean to."

**You KILLED him.**

"Y-yes."

**Awww, hell naw! You loved him so much that in a drunken rage you kicked him in the temple and caved it in. You murdered him because you loved him far too much, hmm? He's like a Duke in distress and you're like Prince revolting. How romantic.**

"Don't make fun of me."

**Shut up! Don't talk to me like that. Who do you think you are, chica? I didn't do this. That was you. I didn't abuse and end the man I love because I was jealous. That was YOU.**

The bassist can feel his tongue stick with an uncomfortable dryness to the inside of his dagger like teeth, the roof of his mouth an adhesive dessert against the top of the oral muscle. He feels a layer of gunk along his pallet and where normally he might contemplate it, he ignores it to talk with the Devil. The same one straightening it's dress as it waits for it's summoner to say something.

"I know! You don' think I fuckin' know tha'? I feel luhk shit 'bout et too!" His hand runs roughly through his greasy black hair. The next question was going to be the real problem. "Cahn yah bring 'im back?"

The question was practically whispered and above all else the silence after doesn't help. Lucy's reptilian eyes blink with a gross wet noise and he licks his lower lip before sighing Because his next comment was going to be the real problem. A red flicked behind him and he breathed in deep, sighing as he looks away.

**I don't know how well that will work. His soul is not my jurisdiction you know? I would be going through a lot of trouble to get it back. And what is truly the price of me buying it back? Miss priss...**  
  
"Murdoc." He corrects, which earns him a rather nasty look from the king of hell.

**Don't backsass me, guuuurl. What I am trying to say is, you don't even have a sacrifice, what could I possibly do for free.**  
  
"I gave you my blood." There is silence at this. "What more do yah wan'!? I Don' 'ave nothin' else! My soul?! Huh? Yew already got t'at! I don' 'ave anythin' more for yew!"

**Are you sure?**

"Oh! OH! No. No. Yew aren't seriously askin' fo' thaht!?" Another pause. "AHHHHWG! Yew ah."

The devil removes himself on the perch of the dresser with a giggle. His hips sway seductively as he moves to Murdoc, circling him, his reptilian tail trailing beneath the others chin and over his chest. His hands, once he reaches the front, rest on Muhds' shoulder and he places himself promptly upon the other lap, straddling it like some stripper at a club. His nails trail the man's jaw line and his tongue flickers with a his.

**I have always been fond of your brother, but he won't come to me of his own free will. But you're a family member. You could do something about that.**

"He 'ates me. What makes yew think 'e will listen tah me? Much less sell 'is soul fer me?" Murdoc growls at Lucy, which earns him another thick and angered hiss, though it calms quickly. Lucifers tongue slowly finds the shell of the green mans ear, sliding up it with -if murdoc didn't know better- lustfulness.

**But you are his family. You have share blood, even if only by half. There's nothing wrong with that. Family owns family, if you sell his soul to me then it is just as good as if he were to.**

Murdoc would normally never help the dark father in his endeavours to chase after Hannibal Niccals, but this was Stuart's life on the line. This was more important than any pride or defiance he had toward the fallen angel on his lap.\

"Yew 'ave a deal...Jus' bring 'im back to me."

**I'll try my best. It will be difficult since my abilities hold no power over his soul, but I'm not particularly known for my honesty in a game of cards against the angel of death. I will work as well as I can.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did indeed say it would be short. With that said I hope you will forgive it and read on. The next two chapters are rather thick, and far more interesting than anything we have read so far.


	8. Zen per Romero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2-D gets a little taste of heaven, but something seems to be missing. Murdoc makes some big decisions about his life choices and we see he has a small glimmer of a redeeming quality.

There is an unfamiliar chill about the air, a blank slate. For a moment the bluebird believes he may be approaching Shangri La, may be able to rest. No headaches, no pain, big blue eyes like before...whatever happened. He isn't sure what happened. No bad memories hmm, that was nice. That was good, that was sweet. That's exactly what he needs. He isn't sure what happened. He's dead, he knows he's dead. That's all he knows. He hopes it didn't hurt. He doesn't remember much, he thinks though -that whatever his life was like before he passed- that it was bad. He can't be sure, with no recollection of it however, and he is ready to brush it off, till something occurs to him.

He is stuck in a panic suddenly. Where is he, where is his mate. Where is that green man that is always with him? Where is he?! WHERE IS HE!? He's not here, did something bad happen? Did he not come with him? Did he let him go? Did they get separated? What happened? Did the other live through whatever happened? Maybe he wasn't going to come to Shangri La. But why wouldn't he be allowed here? He was Stuarts savior!

Stuart! That was the bluebirds name, now wasn't it? It sounded right, sounded nice too. No wait, wrong? Sounded wrong! all wrong. 2-D! He liked that name. That was his name, yeah. That was a good name, right name, perfect name. Where did he get that name? GREEN MAN! Right that's who he needed to find, the green man. Yes. Wait no! If the Green Man wasn't here then it wasn't worth paradise, it wasn't worth any of that! So, if he is going this way the Green Man must be the other way.

For a moment he fully believes he sees a monk standing far ahead, his robes a cream and green design, his chakra marked in the center of his brow. He beckons the young man silently, his hand motioning like that of the japanese bobtail paw- The beckoning cat- for the man to step forward, join him. And something compels him to turn his attention behind him. He looks back to the monk only momentarily, taking in the sight one last time. Everything was green and fruitful the further he saw, the more beautiful it became. He would have to keep this in mind once he found his Green Man. And though his feet itch to step forward something tells him if he does he will never see his savior again.

He turns on his heel and faces the opposite way. It takes all his strength, all his will, but he runs. He runs far away from the promise land, far away from paradise, far away from everything and anything that wasn't his green man. No matter how far he thinks he has run whenever he looks back he seems to of made no progress. He falls to his knees, huffing for breath, his hands wiping away the forming tears in his eyes. Why can't he get away, why can't he be with his Green Man, it wasn't fair!

"IT ISN'T RIGHT!"

"Shh, it is okay." The voice is comforting and when he raises his head, he finds himself face to face with a red man in a black suit. He can almost make out the tail of a lizard behind him. How peculiar.

" 'oo ah yew?" He asks through a sniffle.

"I'm the one who's been hired to take you home. Like an escort. You can call me Luci, alright? Poor boy, you must be so lost. Here.." He holds out a red hand, and although he sees the red and black claws that the other possesses he isn't afraid. It's strange but he trusts him.

"Go on, Take my hand Stuart…"  
"2...2-D." He says swallowing. He is shaking slightly and his body quivers.  
"2-D. Go on now, take it. Just hold my hand and I can take you away from here. Away from all of this. I can take you to your rightful place. You just have to hold on tight."

He feels the skin brush along his own and it coaxes a gasp from him. It's hot and the man smells slightly like sulfur. Then it's all dark again. But that's okay because now he will get to see…

...Murdoc, has cleaned up the candles from around the room, put everything back into place. Everything in it's respectable drawer. He has pushed the bed back into place. It is now firm against the wall, just as it had been. He has cleaned the blood he spilled for the ritual. He has taken off the remains of 2-D's shirt from his body. He has sat for nearly twenty minutes cleaning the bites on the boys wrist with soap and water. He has cleaned the burn as well, ever so gently. It peals a bit and he silently hates himself when it does. He tries to be even more gentle. He cleans the blood from the boys face. He cleans his own hand with peroxide, and he pours half the bottle haphazardly onto the open injury. He hisses and curls in on himself holding his hand tightly.

Murdoc Niccals has placed himself upon the chair at the foot of the bed, resting after doing so much. He would need it, because once 2-D got back- if 2-D got back- ONCE 2-D got back he would have to speak with him about something. Something he was not looking forward to talking about, something he wanted to forget about. He just wanted to pretend all of this never happened, that 2-D and he were never in this mess. That the band would have never broken up, that he would have just been able to tell 2-D about his feelings like a normal fucking person…

But he wasn't a normal person, he was Murdoc Niccals. What that implied was he was foul tempered, easily angered, violent, mean, and heartless. Heartless to all accept one, and even then he hadn't had enough morality not to take the singers life. He thoroughly hates himself. Silently loathing his own being, for he is nothing more than the contaminated and rotten dirt back at Kong Studios. He deserves the fate that awaits him once his life has met its end. This he knows and accepts in a complete silence. And when he sees the others chest raise quickly as Stuart catches his second wind he nearly jumps with anxiousness. The smile upon the green demons face is genuine, and a fluctuated breath shudders his chest with relief. His smile soon fades however when he remembers he must speak with the singer.

2-D feels an immense pain as his chest raises for the first time in hours. His lungs are filled with air and he wants to see Murdoc. The first thing on his mind is the Sickly green Demon bassist. He wants to hug him and he isn't entirely sure why, but when he throws himself up into a sitting position, so that he may begin to move and hug the man, he is filled with even more pain. One of his infamous headaches setting in like hammers on a railroad. And then he remembers, he remembers what happened. He remembers the burn, the cuffs, the hardwood floor, the sickening sound of his skull breaking as it caves in from the side (hardly noticable as it was such a small indentation) . He quickly shoots a hand up to the side of his head out of fear maybe his head is still caved in, and he will look like something from a George Romero flick - which would be cool if it wouldn't be permanent. Oddly enough, his skull is not caved in, and while he would question why this is he doesn't have time. He is filled with anger at what the Bassist has done to him. He was murdered. And then again the anger is over run by the pounding of the headache. He makes a god awful noise to accompany it.

"Shh, hush now Stuart, s'alright. Uh gatchyoo." He says as he quickly stands and grabs some rolled cigarettes from the small table next to him. He Lights it on the way over to 2-D, kneeling by the bedside and offering the weed laced fag to the bluenette. "He'e, smoke up. I think yull need et."

The vocalist is all but confused about the situation. Normally Murdoc would never do something like this, ever. Maybe he planned to burn him again, but no, he wasn't holding the cigarette in a way that would allow him that ability. And slowly he takes the herbal medicine, dragging deeply before exhaling in a large plume. Then the bassist is speaking once again.

"Uh, um, Listen, Stu-Pot...I…" For some reason, for some insane reason, Toeey feels as though he is allowed to interrupt this time. Like he has a right, like he has a right and the other won't be able to stop him this time.

"Yew muhdahd me?" It sounds like a question, a distant question. And his voice is ghostly. Then he flinches and shields himself, because only after is he expecting to be hit for questioning Murdoc.  
"Y-yeah, I uh...I did. But...I brought yew ba~ck, look ah tha~t. Heh heh, brand new, yeah?" Stuarts nose scrunches at how happy the other sounds. Despite the happiness however, Murdoc's voice holds a nervousness to it as well. 2-D of course is oblivious to this different voice pattern.  
"Weww, yeah buh yew stiww kiwwed me!" He screeches.

"Hey, Dullard! Calm down alright. Heh, you're alive~! Yur breathin' in all normal like, had to trade somethin' very important to get yew yeah?" He lies through his teeth. He is still Murdoc Niccals, and while he will never change is attitude, he will watch himself.

Silently Murdoc swears to himself. He will never hurt Stuart like that again, he will not lay his hands on Stuart as long as he doesn't have to. He will not harm a blue hair on the boys body, not a single one as long as he absolutely doesn't need to, as long as the other gives him no reason. He will not hurt 2-D for no good purpose like he did before.  
"I wan' tah…"  
"Stop! Don' say tha', Jus' cause I brought yah back don' mean you get tah go home yah 'ear...I.." He bites his lower lip, careful not to pierce it with his teeth. He watches momentarily as the vocalist takes another large puff of the cannabis, his eyes are beginning to haze slightly. "..awright, Less make a deal, aight?"

Stuarts eyebrow raises. He wasn't sure he wanted to make a deal with Murdoc. Something told him it wasn't smart. It wasn't safe, but then again...what other choice did he have. The man would never let him go home. And Two-ee has seen Muds outrun the cops more times than he could count. There is no way out of this, none at all.

"Awright, 'ears the deal. F'yur good, if yew be'ave, an' yew don' ask tah go home no more then I won' 'it yew at all. Okay? I won' beat on yah. We'll just be a 'appy little pair a mates, got et? Yew owe me after all, I did bring yah back.

Murdoc is God. Murdoc is god. -Murdoc is King. 2-D is King. MURDOC IS GOD. And while every part of 2-D wants to tell him no, wants to tell him to 'bite him' -though the demon may take it literally- he ends up agreeing. Because although Murdoc put him into a coma, without Murdoc he would still be in it. Although Murdoc was the cause of every headache he developed because of his fractures, Murdoc was providing him a way of getting rid of them. Although Murdoc had taken away any chance of a normal life Stuart Pot might of had, he gave 2-D the status of a musical god. Although Murdoc had killed 2-D, he did bring him back...when he could have left him to rot. So , although reluctant it may be, Stu-Pot nods his head and tokes another drag off the joint.

He owes Murdoc. Murdoc is a god among men...and who is Stu to argue with a god?

"Good, Gimme a momen' then...I'm going to go get us a few drinks from t'e liquor store down the street a ways…" Murdoc stands slowly, his back snapping and popping as vertebrae go back into place. He groans through his nose and begins to shuffle to the door.

He stops in the doorway however, his mismatched eyes looking to 2-D for a moment and he gives a chuckle. This earns him a confused, and slightly grudgeful brow furrow from 2-D.

"S'nothin, jus' thinkin'...Yew came bahck from the dead. I thought f'anyone would do 'at it would be me. Now yur just like those stupid zombies from those damn films yah watch...like...somethin' outta a...Remeo, Ram...Romero flick or whatevah that guys name is. Anyway…" He waves his hand dismissively and shuffles off, shutting the door behind him.

Stuart can't help it, he smiles. The statement was...endearing. And even more odd than that, was it practically made him forget any anger he had toward the demon previously.


	9. Give the Devil his Due

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With drugs in the mix the decision may be skewed, but it has been made. And no matter how much he hates Murdoc currently, being treated in such a way is still a breath of fresh air.

It seems that in the past few weeks -since the accident- Murdoc has been iffy about even touching Stuart. The singer can't really complain about this. He isn't being hurt. But their relationship is quiet and admittedly boring. Their days are spent in silence, though sometimes they may have passing conversation, which is nice from time to time. But Murdoc seems to like to stare at 2-D most of the time. It's not a glare. It's a worried like, or like he's concentrating in a trance. 2-D doesn't really mind it. He isn't being hurt by it and oddly enough the other watching over him like a mama hen is a bit comforting. Further more the demon took it upon himself to steal a few DVD's from one of the local stores and most of them were zombie flicks.

So it's nothing to really think about when Stuart is zoned out watching T.V on the floor. Having just finished a blunt he crushes it in the ashtray. His head is tilted slightly to the side as the light shines onto his face, flimmering off the black orbs in his head. Murdoc shifts uneasily. It makes the boy look soft, perfect. He can feel himself shifting uneasily. His teeth clench and he sucks in a quick breath through his nose. He hasn't /done/ anything with 2-D in quite some time. And he tries to remind himself of his promise. But maybe if he…

"Hey 2-Dents." The name is said in a nicknamish fashion, rather than one meant to insult.

"Yeah, Muhdsh?" He turns almost instantly at the sound of the others voice. He's more willing to answer these days, seeing as Murdoc has kept good on his promise and hasn't hurt him.

"Jus' , uh, c'mere. Sit 'ere on da bed with me." He pats the spot next to him in emphasis.

The younger male is hesitant for a moment, as the other hardly ever requests that. Usually they just sit in awkward silence. However, the request is obliged and Stuart stands, joining the other and then looking to him. As the demon raises his hand the singer flinches, but the gentle touch to the side of his face makes him relax. This is probably the first time - that Stu-pot can remember - that Murdoc has been gentle in any physical gesture. The feeling is heightened by the accompaniment of the drugs in his system, and it brings gooseflesh to his skin. His breath hitches slightly and he hums with a softness. It feels good. Of course all that is forgotten when he feels hands on him. Resting at his hips they slowly begin to lift his shirt. The next feeling is of dry lips on his neck and he Jerks away quickly.

"Muhdoch, yah shaid yew wouldn' 'urt mey." He brows furrow in worry and he bites one side of his lip with his remaining teeth.

"Ain't gonna 'urt yew, jus'...jus thought we could 'ave a little fun. M'a bit pent up and we haven't really been through this in a while. So I figured…"

"Yew shaid." The demon pauses and this and clears his throat. He did indeed promise after all.

While Murdoc normally never kept well on his promises this one was - like most things now- different. He didn't want to hurt 2-D, he was afraid of hurting 2-D, afraid of possibly losing him again, that thought alone is horrifying. Murdoc seems to have reached an impasse with the singer. He is silent for all of a moment before standing and moving to the small bathroom. He retrieves from it a bottle of lotion and then Joins Stuart near the bed. He places the lotion on the nightstand and breathes in deeply

"Dullard, we a'e doin' this either way. Yuh still my captive an' yew still 'ave to do what I say. So we cahn obey the good ol' saint Murdoc, or it will hurt. An' like I siad 2-Dent's, I don' wanna 'urt yew."

"Muhdsh, pweashe I reawy don' wan' choo, I…"

"I could 'ave let yew stay dead." Murdoc silently hates himself for pulling this card on the blunette. It's the only card he has to play however. "Yew owe me, Stuaht."

The bluebird is just about to open his mouth to speak, but the words settle in through his high. He stares into space momentarily while his brain processes. There's a bit of a haze going on and it's hard to think through. He process the words 'dead' and 'owe'. Then the sound of his own name in a gruff voice, hissing out at him like steam from a broken boiler pipe. It's not angered, just quieter, which makes him drag it out further.

It's True really, the singer does owe him. At least he thinks he does. Murdoc could have left him. He could have buried him in a shallow grave. He could have thrown him in a dumpster, or a pig pen somewhere. But no, he brought him back. And that was something amazing for coming from the demon bassist. 2-D couldn't argue with him this time. He supposed the other was at least trying to keep his promise too.

"A-awrigh' Muhdsh. Okay." he sighs and bites his lower lip with his remaining teeth, typical 2-D fashion. His hands moving to remove his shirt. He discards it on the floor and his face heats slightly. He still doesn't want to do this, but Murdoc said he wouldn't be hurt this time. He tries to give the other the benefit of the doubt.

"A'right, tha's good, Stu-pot. Be a good boy an' all will go easily. Promis." He opens the drawer and pulls out a familiar pair of cuffs. 2-D's eye widen further than normal.

"I-I fought you shaid…"

"Jus' trust meh, faceache. It won' hurt. These a'e jus' for precautions." He scoots close to Stuart and holds the cuffs out for him. "I'll even lock 'em up in front of yah this time."

The blue haired male is hesitant but soon obliges, offering up his wrists in front. To his surprise Murdoc is true to his doesn't try to force the singers hands behind him or anything of the like, and he locks them up loosely. 2-D still cannot get them out of the binds, but they no longer bite as they had before. He does not have much time to think about this however as the demon lays him back on the bed. He begins to shake, unsure of how the other will manage to keep this from hurting. Murdoc's hands move to undo the others jeans, slowly pulling them down. He discards them the opposite direction of the shirt.

He hums softly in concentration as he runs a hand as gently as possible over the others inner thigh. The skin is so pale and soft, it's nice beneath Murdoc's own calloused palm and fingers. He silently hates himself. The first time he put bruises on this skin was the day he hit 2-D with his car in that music shop. He wishes he had of never been there, hadn't crashed through that window. Then he and Stuart Pot would have never met and he all of the pain he put the boy through could have been saved. He sighs in spite of himself and licks his lips with his pointed tongue before continuing.

His hands move slowly across the blue boys chest. Gently they rub over the others nipples, his thumbs brushing circles onto them. The thin abused male shudders at the touch, his breath hitching slightly. Decidedly, this is not as bad when the bassist is being gentle with him. In fact it actually felt rather nice, which makes his face that much more red. He lets out a noise that hangs in the air, like the high notes on sheet music. It forces green bumps onto Murdoc's that feel entirely pleasant. Careful of those awful teeth he bites his lower lip, a gruff sound chirping from him.

Long bony fingers span and begin to slide down the blunettes sides firmly, taking in their shape and form. Slightly curling his fingers in allows his jagged nails to scrape the others skin, making it slightly red and risen. Though the lanky male does hiss in at the sensation he has to admit it isn't all that bad. He supposes a bit of pain is not all too bad. He can slowly feel himself becoming erect, his member brushing up against the fabric of his briefs. As the demon meets the blue angels hips he notices the bump forming and chuckles a little.

"See now, 2-D, ain't so bad when yah relax, is it?" He licks his lips with the pointed tip of his tongue, his fingers hooking the elastic of the undergarments.

"S-s'not sho bahd, reawy..wha' when yuh bein' aww gentwe wike vat."

He slowly pulls the garment down, Stuarts erection springing free. He hums at the others obviously positive reaction to their session. He sucks on his own lower lip as the rest of his captives body is revealed. Stu-pot's legs lifted slowly to help the other remove it, and much to Murdoc's shock mind you. He didn't think the other would cooperate with him this much. Murdoc is left to wonder what exactly is going through the singers head at the moment. Then again, he's probably just calm because of the drugs. This is fine by him, at least the other is not screaming or struggling.

Murdoc hums and looks at the others form, unbruised and soft, just like it should be. He hates himself for ever putting a mark on it, because really stuart is entirely perfect. He's just the kind of pretty boy the girls would go crazy for, the exact thing he thought when both eyes were rendered black, after 2-D had flown out of the windshield of the car. Satan almighty he was perfect, in form, in soul, in voice. Everything about him. Murdoc just wanted to destroy it, and he hated himself for that. But now, now he just wants to love it.

Lowering his head between the others legs earns him a scared and nervous sound from his singer. He looks up with those mismatched eyes and tries his best to give him a comforting look. It seems to work, and slowly his tongue slithers past his lips, licking a firm line from the base of the others member up to the tip. A line of cooling saliva is left in its wake, and much to his pleasure he watches up close as the muscle twitches for him. It's the best reaction he could ask for in this situation, and his tongue slithers out further to wrap around the muscle tightly. With a quick rise up it flicks loose from it, dipping into the urethra momentarily.

Stuarts back arches and his breaths come quick and heavy. Every muscle he has shudders and quivers beneath the others touch. He admits to himself that the sensation is indeed one of the best he has felt, especially after so long without any real pleasure. He liked this Murdoc really. This Mudsy who is willing to touch him gently, take care of his body for him. And it confuses him because he had never known himself to be truly turned on by another man. This was good though, this felt good, great even. And he doesn't make any steps toward saying this out loud, but admitting it to himself is good enough for him right now. He relaxes onto the bed once more as the other continues to work.

The demon adores the reactions he is getting from the other and decides to continue along this path for the time being. He licks his lips and the opens his mouth. His lips lock around the tip, his tongue slithering and sliding over it. He gives a gentle suckle and the sound that emanates from the blue haired wonder makes Murdoc tingle all over. His heart - that he now knows he has- picks up speed and thwumps hard against his chest, the sound echoing in his own ears. With that as encouragement he allows himself to take the boy in further, this only earns him a sound of pain when his sharp teeth hook the others flesh.

Quickly he lifts his head from the others groin and begins to search frantically for any cuts. He curses beneath his breath the entire time and relaxes when he realizes there is no bleeding. Simply, he had only caused a slight discomfort. Though the other was now looking at him with a bit of fear in his glossy intoxicated eyes. He slowly runs a hand along the others hip to relax him. To his surprise it works wonderfully and he takes in a deep breath before slowly lowering his head again. He is stopped by the other. With his hands bound in front of him he is able to keep the other at bay a bit.

"No, Muhdsh, pweashe don' i-it reawy 'urtsh an'..."

"Shh, hus naow, s'alright. Won' 'urt yew again. Trus' mey."

He lowers his head one more time. This time he makes sure to curl his lips over his sharp teeth, ensuring to separate them from the others flesh. His tongue curls around the others muscle as he takes him in. With gentle suckling he coaxes the other back into the excitement, earning him a plethora of noises from his captive. He decidedly enjoys them and tries his best to coax out more.

Murdoc's tongue wrapped around him, with the combination of a now relentless suckling sensation, causes 2-D to arch and shudder, his legs quivering mostly near the knees. It's practically torture and makes his jaw clench his remaining teeth together hard. The others mouth is hot, and though he has known it to be normally try, it's wet with slippery saliva. And for the first time during this entire endeavor he isn't worried about all the bacteria that could be in Murdoc Niccals' mouth.

He suddenly feels his tip hip something and in his high fog it takes him a moment to realize it was the back of the others throat. A whimper escapes him and he tries his best to buck back into it, but to no avail. As soon as it was there it was gone, followed by the hot mouth, and the slithering of a tongue as it uncurls, dipping back into his urethra one last time. He moans loudly at this and allows his head to lull off to the side as he tries to catch his breath.

In the time that the other is still in his daze, Murdoc has located his bottle of lotion. The cap of the item makes a rather loud popping sound as it is removed with a thumb. He grumbles something to himself as he pours it into his hand, warming it as best he can with his palm and fingers. For a moment it scares him, how much care he is actually putting into the encounter; as the case has it if it were anyone else he would just slap them with some cold lube and bury himself. But no, he promised not to hurt the other, and he planned to make good on it.

Slowly one hand lifts 2-D's thigh, making him snap back to reality. He looks through clouded eyes at the bassist and this makes Murdoc develop chills. The way the other looks at him with an expression that begs for him to be relieved. Murdoc knows why when he looks down to find Stuarts manhood thrumming and throbbing between his thin legs. Lord Satan, was that not the most attractive thing Murdoc had ever seen in his life.

He places his thumb to the others opening, earning yet another gasp from Stuart, and his eyes become worried momentarily. Murdoc silently loathes himself for making the other afraid. If he didn't go about things like he had he could make Stu see that this could feel good, if he was kind enough. His thumb slowly begins to move, rubbing circles on the outside of the ring of muscle. Strangely enough he gets what he can assume is a good reaction.

Stuarts back arches and he lets out a long draw out sound, the sensations coursing through him are undeniably pleasurable. He wasn't sore there anymore, since it had indeed been some time since Murdoc had tried anything like this. And since he had the cannabis in his system to aid him he found this to be a rather enjoyable experience. The teasing of his entrance only makes a small vein pulse inside his masculinity, throbbing and thumping. His member bobs in response. Then something comes out of his mouth that the both of them aren't entirely sure they heard.

"P-put shomefing inshide ih dahmmet!"

The room goes entirely silent, at least the two men in it do. There is of course a slight buzz from the T.V and the sound of some people screaming as Zombies break down the door to some pub. Murdoc and Stuart however are completely unaware of these goings ons as they stare silently back at each other. For a moment Stu-Pot is entirely sure that the other will hit him for giving a command. Much to his pleasure -and embarrassment- however, he feels a firm circular rubbing just as before and a shuddering sound escapes the top of his throat.

Murdoc nearly pushes his thumb into the other until he remembers the sharpness of his nails. It is more than likely not a good idea to press his digits inside the blunette. There was a risk his jagged claws would catch or tear something. And though he would love to push them in he did promise the other that he would not hurt him if he were good. He bites his own lip gently and tries to think this through. If he were to just push himself in it may hurt momentarily, but the other would adjust, and at this moment it seems to be his best bet.

With that in mind the demon bassist reaches for the lotion once more and pours a generous amount on his hand. He undoes his pants with the free one and clumsily shimmies out of them tossing his clothing in some other direction than the rest. Seeing as Murdoc is famous for going commando, he holds true to these habits even now. His member is hardened from the constant watching and listening to the other, his desires having come to the forefront.

With a shaky hand he smears the lotion over himself and leaves it in a thick layer, hoping that it would help solve a few of the problems they would be sure to face. He really was hoping that the other would not be in too much pain, he liked the way the other sounded when he wasn't fighting or scared. He smears the rest of the lotion onto the others opening and moves to place his hands near either side of Stuarts torso.

"Now, listen' 'ear Stu-Pot, uh, this could 'urt a bit. I won' lie and say it won' but jus' remember tah breath an yah know…"

He stops speaking and slowly begins to push himself into the other, Stu has hard hardly any time to respond as he tries to process through his intoxication. The insides are hot and tight around him coaxing out a loud groan, gruff but certainly pleased with the sensation. He swallows hard and shudders a bit. The others lack of thrashing and fighting allows him to get a good feel of him for the first time, far more enjoyable than the other times. Though something does shock the bassist when he looks down at his singer.

Stuart seems oddly relaxed, his eyes glossy and his mouth slightly open. Murdoc may have thought him dead if it weren't for the rise and fall of his chest. Oh, yes~! The demons entire body goes numb momentarily as the most sultry moan he has ever heard quakes from the others vocals, and he feels as though he could practically use it for the ambiance in the background of a song due to how melodic it was. Admittedly if he hears /that/ too much he will likely lose it. Such a fantastic noise. Then he realises, this is the first time he would ever be trying to please someone other than himself.

He suddenly feels slightly scared at that thought, nervous even. He had never tried to pleasure anyone before and he takes a deep breath because he is faced with a decision. Stuart practically groans in protest at lack of the others movement and Murdoc soon finds his break. He wraps his arms around the others Torso and rolls, putting Stuart atop him.

"Jus'...move whenevah you're ready, then." He tries to keep his voice even, but it wavers here and there despite what he would like.

It takes the other no time at all to process this, his bound hands find Murdoc's chest, using it to support himself. Stu-pot takes in a rather deep breath through his nose and rolls his hips up with a long sound that hangs between them just as before.- If noises could kill~... - There is another downward roll and Murdoc groans louder than he believes he has in his whole life. For once he is entirely embarrassed. Though he has no time to dwell on this because suddenly the dullard is picking up speed.

He would not be surprised if his chest were to explode at this very moment. The way the faceache is riding him is making his breath come hard and his hands move quickly to grip the others hips. His voice isn't the only thing the blueboy seems to have rhythm in. And if it were possible to make music with the rhythm of Stuarts body and the melody of his voice, Murdoc would be putting out yet another best selling recording. But no, this was his, right here, right now, this was his.

Stuarts body quivers ever so slightly in the others palms and he arches his back. What was that spot Murdoc hit before anyway, if he could just...the thought is hardly finished when he finds it, and a rush of white light blinds him momentarily as he continuously brushes the others tip against it, picking up speed that much more. He's so intoxicated that even the light digging of nails into his hips drives him further, making his breath come in short and quick huffs. He is entirely sure that if he does not breath like this at the moment, that he will forget to do it at all. His body rocks and rolls on top of the bassist, and he suddenly feels Murdoc twitch against that ever interesting spot. He curls his fingers, digging blunt nails into the others chest and dragging down as he lets his head fall back.

When the demon feels nails in his flesh he almost yells at the other on reflex. It is of course a split second after that he realizes that the other is under so much pleasure that he is trying to release muscle tension through clawing into him, that alone makes the blunettes scratching the most fucking brilliant and important sensation in the world, and he revels in it momentarily as they move from his chest all the way over his stomach, drawing a bit of blood beneath the surface as they do. Then they move up to grasp his own sex, which he has to do with both of his hands due to them being bound together. He gasps and Murdoc practically growls with lust as he watches the others black eyes roll slightly, he knows they have due to the shifting of highlights in them. And a loud sound, like a choking can be heard within Stuarts throat as he begins to stroke himself quickly, his hips becoming more erratic. It takes a moment for Murdoc to process the words through the choking but when he does make them out the groan that erupts from him can surely be heard by the neighboring apartments.

"Muhdoch! Oh~, fuck, Muhdoch. Pweashe, I...I need...I wan'... I...ah~ Fuhck me!" His remaining teeth clench down hard and his eyes shut. A furrowing brow is all he can manage as a hard climax washes over him, like a typhoon right on the shore. He breaths in quickly from his nose, making sniffling noises as he does so, trying what he can to remain breathing. Strand after strand rope from him as the splash onto the demons stomach, some projectile enough to meet his chest with a barely audible /splat/.

Murdoc bites his lip hard at the sight, drawing the smallest bit of blood. This boy was practically an angel, and if Murdoc hadn't destroyed him before, he certainly had now. He is too prideful in his realization to hate himself, and his grip on the singers hips tighten. His hips move up off the bed, pushing into Stuarts body, coaxing tired and worn moans from the spent singer, who is slowly stroking out what remains of the climax, milking himself of the remaining drops. Murdoc gives a roll, two, three, four.

His head presses hard into the pillow behind him, a growl erupting as he finds his own finish and spills his seed into the others body. He is in too much bliss to be surprised that the singer is seemingly pleased with this notion, and brushes it off to enjoy his capstone. He allows himself to drain into the other before his hips slow to a stop, and he does the most daring thing he has ever done in his life.

His hand moves up to gently caress the back of the singers neck, guiding him down until their chests meet. Hot breath mixes between lips only inches apart from each other. It's admittedly the most erotic moment in the demons life; and in resemblance the singers as well. Their lips connect only when the bassist lifts his head slightly. The kiss is wet and 2-D is suddenly reminded of the thought before, the bacteria in the others mouth because the green man tastes awful, but he is too stoned at the current to gather he should pull away, and oddly enough, he begins to kiss back.

Murdoc lays with his singer in one arm, soft blue hair tickling his chest where the other has rested his head. Black and mindless eyes stare at a T.V screen showing the image of a male and a female in a graveyard, and what Murdoc can gather from this is that the two are brother and sister, but that's all he knows his going on. His bony hand rests on the others ribcage, brushing it light enough that it won't hurt, but firm enough that it won't tickle. Tooey seems to appreciate this as he nuzzles a bit closer.

In the unoccupied hand he holds a lit cigarette, one of the last ones and he puts it to his own lips, puffing and feeling the herb work it's magic. He was sure this had to be helping Stu's headaches, since it sure was helping the pain he often felt in his own back, which was a lot if he were being entirely honest, though he would never admit that. He would however admit he would have to start smoking this stuff more often.

"I love yew, Dullard."

And once again the blunette is not entirely sure he heard the demon correctly, because anyone who loved him would not put him in these situations. He blames the drugs, brushes it off as his imagination and continues to watch the T.V. Admittedly at the moment he is still angry with Murdoc, because he still was here in this boring place, he was still without Noodle and Russ and Buddha knows he misses them, he is still being forced to do things with Murdoc even though he doesn't want to. Say what you will but when Stuart thinks about it he really never had much of a choice in the first place. Then again he never did. Even now it was 'Dew what I say, or I will beat you'. Not much of a choice there.

Murdoc does not blame the other for not saying it back. He supposes the other is either afraid to say it, or too high to comprehend it, and he offers the other another puff of the cigarette despite the second possibility. 2-D of course wraps his lips around it and exhales the plume over Murdoc's skin, watching it swirl in the dim light that comes off of the T.V. It's entertaining really. The bassist takes a moment to brush the others hair with his free hand before taking yet another puff and he tries not to comprehend that maybe the other didn't say it because he doesn't feel the same way. Or perhaps it was because he detested Murdoc, and while Murdoc would not blame him for such feelings he refuses to think about it.

Luckily his thoughts are interrupted when the image on the T.V shows one of the shuffling zombies attacking the woman and man. The girl runs off and the man - who Murdoc is pretty sure is going to die- tries to hold the zombie off. The girl runs away. This of course is not exactly what derails his train of thought. No, what derails it is his captives hand - resting with his head on his chest- balling into a fist slowly, nails scraping along his flesh. By what he can comprehend, the other didn't mean to scratch him. But then why was he balling his hand like that. Then it occurs to him, something so strange that he would blame the weed if it weren't for the slight bit of sense it made. The saying 'you learn something new everyday' comes to mind when he realizes...2-D has a fear of Zombies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH! YEAH! It feels good to have this one done! Oh boy this took a long time, and this is my LONGEST CHAPTER! WHOOO! Alright guys, I love comments and reviews and that good stuff, and really would love to hear what you thought about this one. So just gimme the rundown on what you thought and I really hoped you enjoyed this. I LOVE ALL OF YOU WHO STILL READ THIS AFTER SO LONG! I love you guys for just holding in there, I hope this one was worth it and within the next few chapters we will be wrapping this show up.
> 
> This is the last written chapter I have for now, so I will hopefully be working on the next soon. I will touch base with Russ and Noods again.


	10. Mission: completed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We catch up with Noodle and Russ: Stuart has been reunited with some old faces.

The lack of warmth about the air is accompanied with the smell of falling leaves as autumn takes hold. Once more the two are on the move again. They couldn’t stay in that little apartment forever, no matter if it was becoming comfortable to them. 2-D was still a captive and Murdoc was still his kidnapper. Once more the feeling that Russel and Noodle were getting close was what haunted the other. It encouraged him to pack up their lives and set out for new sights. Even if deep down he did want a home for he and the blunette. Under such circumstances though, it wasn’t possible. They had to keep moving. It was move or be separated now.

Murdoc had made love...fucked him again that morning before they left. Bags pressed to the wall closest the door, smoke rolling from a joint in the tray. The morning autumns light glowing in from the window onto their bed. Oddly enough it reminded the thinner male of the smell of syrup, apples and spices, pumpkin spice. It was so odd to smell such things with Murdoc a top him. Perhaps it was the atmosphere and the half smoked Joint.

Whatever the reason he had not bothered to question it, it took too much brain capacity, and although his headaches came less often he wasn’t willing to risk it. After murdoc was pleased and 2-D was spent Muds began to move the bags to their car. As 2-D sat upon the bed he pondered curiously about the way Murdoc loved /fucked/ him this time. It was quiet, breathy, a few moans here and there but nothing loud like at night. He took a drag from the blunt and licks his lips through the gap in his teeth.

Perhaps Murdoc was actually one for atmosphere, though that was indeed shocking. Maybe Murdoc was trying to show a tender side of himself, maybe even a romantic side. And as usual as soon as the thought is there it is pushed far out of his mind. He’s stupid to entertain the idea that the other would ever love him. A faceache like him. What was he worth to the demon other than a plaything, because Murdoc knew that 2-D would never tell him no, that even if he did he could always beat him into submission. It had nothing to do with love, nothing at all. And as unfortunate as that is Stuart did his best to accept it at that moment, no matter the amount of pain it brought him to think about.

So he didn’t think about it and eventually crushed the rest of the joint in the tray before standing and stretching. He moved out of the room, picking up a bag, unsure which, and shuffled out to the car. He sat on the passenger side and placed the bag in his lap, so Murdoc wouldn’t have to pack it with the few other things he had. And he waited patiently for the other to join him in the front seat. This took time since Murdoc had to fight and argue with the trunk, attempting to get the damn piece closed.

After initially slamming his body hard into it it clicked shut. He was pleased enough with this and moved to sit in the drivers side. He looked over to Stu, who was putting his seatbelt on. Again he was pleased. This would ensure that the other would not fly out the window should anything happen. That was reassuring, though he would never admit that out loud. He simply didn’t wish for the other to be hurt again, and he had kept good on his word, except for one slip up that left a purple mark on 2-D’s cheek. Even now it was visible in yellow brown. He silently detests himself. 

* * *

  
Russ pulls the car into a parking spot at a gas station. Noodle, once again, has been making checkpoints on her map. Russel takes it upon himself to run inside to retrieve her cigarettes. The small asian girl sits and marks precise spots while she waits for the other to return. Her delicate hand marks scribbles on useless places and a long sigh emanates from her.

“Perhaps Russel-San is right…”

What chance did they really have of finding 2-D if indeed Murdoc did not wish to be found. It was quite the impossible task.She sighs and shakes her head, her hair falling further over her eyes than it normally did. She was at a complete loss. There was no way they could do this was their. It was so odd. Usually the two had no trouble at all finding the two idiots. But this was all so much different than the times before. Maybe it was true, what Murdoc had said, what he had screamed to her and Russ the day before the kidnapping.

The idea that it could be true was horrifying. She jumps slightly when she hears the sound of gravel shifting beneath car tires as another car pulls up right next to them. She doesn’t look up, and can just make out a man sauntering off angrily into the store. And had Noodle not have been in such a depression she may have recognized the gruff and nasty voice the man had. But she didn’t.

She pays no mind to the neighboring car until she hears something slam against her window. She screams at it, a rather angry noise, and begins to curse in japanese at the man at her window. Her voice only ceases when she sees the frantic 2-D trying to pry the door open. He seems to be in a panic and noodle quickly points to the back and unlocks the car from him. Hard to focus on when every muscle is tightening and the other is screaming in a broken high pitched voice, begging her to open up.

  
She frantically unlocked the door and allowed him into the back of the car. She was shaking. She wanted to hug him, to listen to him, but if he was here she couldn’t waste time. She pulled her cell from her pocket instantly setting to dialing Russ. He had to get out here now. They needed to go. Whatever they had come to pick up was nowhere near as important as the Cargo they now carried in the back of the car.

Inside Russ was picking up a snack for himself, when his phone went off there was a loud burst of the instrumental to ‘Rock the House’. He pulls his phone from his pocket, looking at the caller ID. The ringtone, as expected had caught the attention of an unwelcomed guest.

“Russ you fuckin’ shit! Wha’ did ah say aboutchyoo followin!”

“Oh shit!”

With that the bassist bolted, the demon hot on his tail. He rushed as fast as he could to his car, throwing the door open and then slamming it quickly behind him. He started up the car, only then noticing the blue haired hitchhiker in the back. He took off as quickly as he could.

“Shit, Two, when did you get here?” He asked, shooting a quick look to his rear view.

“I jush go’ in dah cah. Muhdshy kidnapped meh!” He screeches, looking back. Just as he feared the green devil was speeding after them.

“Russel San! Hit the gas! He’s on our tail!” Noodle screeched and curled up, truly fearing that the demon would indeed kill them if he got the chance.

Russel threw the car into a quick turn, jerking those inside. Everyones heart was racing, thrumming in their chests like the beat of the drums. Russel took another harsh spin, hoping to throw Murdoc off of them. He seemed unshakable!

“Fucking hell, he just ain’t getting the fuck off my tail!” Russel cursed. He looked ahead, seeing a great line of traffic. If he could pull it off they might have a chance.

He sped into the lanes, dodging cars narrowly till he burst out onto a long and empty road looking up once more to the rear. Finally he had lost Murdoc, leaving him trapped behind many cars which would keep him held in place for quite some time.

Stuart sat shivering and shuddering in the back of the car. His hands gripped at the edge of the backseat and he heaved great breaths of strain. His body was clearly tired, further underfed that what was even normal from him. And it was Noodle that noticed the bruise of the bluenettes cheek. She gave a breath full over worry and shook her head.

“He hurt you.” She said, more of a comment than a question. And at this the blue bird turned his sights out the window.

“Only a bih, Ih...ih goh a loht behah.” He tried to reassure the other, but she wasn’t having it. It was clear she wanted so badly to punch something, but she settled for crushing an empty cigarette pack and holding it tight.

“It’s alright, baby girl. We’re gonna get him all set up, fixed like a new set a drums.” One hand moved from the wheel to rub her shoulder gently. She turned from him, still angered with the demonic bassist.

They drove till the night fell and then made to find a motel, all deciding it best to sleep in the same room. It was set one bathroom, a small tub and shower to join. They allowed Stupot to bathe before anything else.

He cleaned himself slowly, dragging a rag over his flesh, and he realized for the first time in quite a long time that he that his bones ached and his muscles were sore. He lay back to let the water soothe him, the warmth of it so welcome, a contrast to the cold glare of Niccals. He flinched hard at the inner sights of a red and black eye. He was...so scared. Even now, with Noodle and Russel, he was scared.

Outside Russel leaned against the structure of the motel, a cigarette placed between his teeth as he pulled out his phone. He scrolled through pretty much nothing, only trying to occupy his hands with more than a smoke. It wasn’t till Noodle joined him that he was to look up from the bright screen.   
  
From her pocket she pulled her own pack, opening the top and retrieving her own smoke. She lit and stared off at the nothingness of the sky. A series of street lamps lit the sky so that no stars could particularly be seen, even if they were not quite in a town just yet. She looked over to Russ, looking him up and down.

“Thank you.” She said, earning another glance from him.

He looked to her and though he knew he need not ask he did anyway.

“For?”

“You didn’t give up, even when you wanted to. I know you did that for me...just...thank you.”

“He’s my friend too, Noods. Ain’t nothing I wasn’t willing to do.”

“I see.” Her voice died out in the darkness, followed only by a dispersing plume of smoke from her cigarette, and so with it their conversation.

The two sat still smoking in silence, sharing only glances when they thought the other was not looking. It wasn’t till Noodle had stomped out her cigarette that she looked up to catch his gaze. She took a quick breath, then slowly exhaled, her eyes searching his face. Slowly she moved in front of him.

“What you thinkin’, baby girl?”

The question was met with an answer that had no verbal form. At this she stood on her tiptoes, her arms wrapping around his neck as she dragged him down and meant to connect their lips. He held still, unsure if he should kiss back. After a moment he complies, his large hands meeting the small of her back to support her. The two stayed locked in a kiss until the motel door opened, and quickly they tore apart.

“I’m gon tah be gon off choo bed fow now, I’ll shee you boff tomowwow.” 2-D informed. Unable to speak they only nodded, which was enough for him and he retreated into the room. The silence only continued until Noodle made for the room, to of course be stopped by Russel’s voice.

“Hey! Baby girl, we gonna get D back to his mama. After that, me and you gonna have a talk about. This lil’ thin’, whatever this was.”

She stood still at this but complied with a nod after a time, and slipped into the room. 

* * *

  
The car ride was but silence. The wheels of the old automobile crunched and ground over gravel that had some how gotten on the cement. Russel had kept his eyes on the road, both hands on the wheel, while Noodle had one hand out the window holding a half smoked cigarette. 2-D had taken to tapping his foot mindlessly as the scenery went by.

He hadn't told Noodle everything that had happened. He hadn't told Russ either. He didn't tell them about the touching, he didn't tell them how he'd had to be resurrected. He kept his mouth shut about everything. It was odd but he felt fully ashamed about the entire ordeal, though he wasn't sure why. None of it was his fault after all. Even so his mouth remained shut.   
  
It was Noodle that spoke first, his tongue making some dry sound as it peeled off the roof of her mouth. Her speech came to succeed it.

"He said he loved you." She called back to Stuart, before bringing her cigarette back between her lips. Her statement earned her quite a glare from Russell, which she chose to ignore. "He said if we tried to find you he'd kill us. Not that we're really afraid of that jackass."

Another stern look from Russ. He preferred her not to swear, but there was no way he could be a hypocrite about it, especially now that she was old enough to decide on her own. She looked back to see the expression on 2-D's face. He was paying attention now, his brow furrowed.

With the way his forehead knitted up his age became far more clear. It showed wrinkles on his forehead that would otherwise lay flat, as though not there at all. His eyes squinted up brought out the ever hidden crowfeet near his temples. He seemed to be staring as though he hadn't heard right, or wasn't sure whether he had or hadn't.

If what Noodle was saying was true than all those times he'd thought he'd heard Murdoc say such things weren't so crazy. It was very possible indeed that it had absolutely been said. The singer felt his stomach churn.

"Stop veh car..." He choked, his voice weak and shaky. "M'gonna be shick."

Russ didn't take time to argue and he didn't take time to question. He quickly pulled over for the bluenette. Stuart threw the car door open and leaped out immediately. In a matter of moments he was doubled over on the ground, emptying the contents of his stomach into damp grass.

"You shouldn't a' told him that, Baby girl." He could hear Russ stating as his heaving came to an end.

He managed to shake his head, though it was doubtful that Russ had even seen him.

"She'sh fine." He managed, spitting once more to get the taste out of his mouth, and then making his way back into the car. He shut the door and slumped down, pulling his buckle to lock it in place.

"He deserved to know." He could hear Noodle whisper to Russel.

The rest of the way home was a few days trip. They stopped at Motels when they could and they slept in the car when needed. Nights like that no one slept comfortably. They would have just flown back or something but they didn't want the press all over Stuart, not after what he'd been through over the course of nearly a year.

When Stuart walked into his parents home for the first time since the incident his it was Mrs. Pot who first greeted him. She had thrown her arms around him and hugged him so tightly that he was likely to pop if she wasn't careful.

His father had even taken it upon himself to tug 2-D close with one arm and pat his shoulder. His mother had fed him and checked him over and over for any wounds. Most had healed except the now bright yellow bruise which was nearly healed.

Rachel talked Stuart into taking a bath, which he did. He wiped off dirt and grime from his time with the demon, and he let the bath water soothe his sore muscles. He breathed in deeply and relaxed in the tub, blowing bubbles into the water through his nose. His black eyes peered over the bathwater, which was beginning to turn a bit murky. He raised himself and finished cleaning before wrapping himself in a towel.

He was given some of his fathers pajama's to wear. They were baggy and they threatened to slide off of him but he made due. He had to hold the pants up on his lanky frame, since his hips weren't wide enough, and the shirt slid off of his shoulder, showing pale skin, and a scare that showed perfectly the shape of teeth. Everyone knew who's teeth had caused it of course. But no one brought it up when he joined his parents, Russel, and Noodle back in the den for some tea before bed.

They all talked and the environment was brought to be calm. Russ proved to be quite the gentlemen when Stuarts parents were around, and Rachel wouldn't stop hugging the poor drummer. She thanked him over and over again. She spoke with Noodle as well and talked well into the night with her.

Around one A.M everyone was well beat and it was Russ who had suggested he and Noodle take their leave. This left Stu-Pot alone with his parents. His dad gave him one last one armed hug while his mother took him up to his old bedroom. Rachel hadn't tucked him in since he was a young boy, but he let her tonight and she gave him a kiss on the forehead, and he gave her one on the cheek and that was that.

And come the next morning, as Rachel was too excited to sleep too long (and David roused when his wife did), and Stuart was still on edge, they talked over where Stu-Pot would stay and for how long.

Rachel and David both came to the conclusion that it would be best for the bluenette to stay home for a while, and Stuart who didn't want to be left alone at any time found it easy to agree. And so it was settled that until Stu-Pot's mind was at ease he was to stay at home with his mother and father.


	11. Moving On Is Hard To Do.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stuart tries to get along without Murdoc. But sometimes the ones you miss most are those who cause you the most pain.  
> ____  
> Noodle and Russ have some splainin' to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be wrapping up a long period of time that passes now that Stuarts been brought home. Bare with me.

Stuart was put back on his meds a short time after being home. His headaches had returned without the use of Murdoc's 'medicine', and he was starting to have nose bleeds from their severity. Stu-Pot could just imagine the bassist laughing in delight at the view of the singer clutching a hand over his nose gushing crimson. The thought made his stomach churn. He tried not to think about it.

He had gotten news from his uncle after a few months of living in his parents home that the music shop had been reopened. He was immediately offered a job, and of course with his presence there the business kicked off rather well. They were almost always busy, due to Stuarts fame of course.

People often asked him things about Noodle and Russel, every once in a while he may have to answer something about Murdoc. Most questions about the bassist he had to answer with 'I don't know.' And 'We don' talk mush no moe.' Which got a lot of sad looks from certain fans. But so was life he supposed.

Another common theme was questions about when or if the band would be putting out another song or CD, which again 2-D had no real answer for. He often said no and then checked them out. He really did doubt that they would be putting out another album after everything that had happened. He wouldn't want to work with Murdoc again anyway. And if he wanted to put out an album he could do it by himself just like he had done with The Fall.

That album sold pretty well and he'd done it mostly on his lonesome, under the Gorillaz name. He found when he did such things anything would sell, so if push came to shove he may dish out another Album like so, or do something along with Noodle and Russ. But them working with Murdoc again was a shot in the dark.

When winter rolled around Stuart had found himself quite set on money. He'd spent enough time with his parents and didn't want to cause them anymore trouble. Furthermore his constant hording of musical items was becoming too much to keep in one room. So he took his money and spent it on a house of his own. He thought about perhaps getting an apartment, but he'd had one of those almost his whole life.

It was time for a change of pace so a house was the way to go. Noodle was over more often then not helping Stuart clean and helping him with meals. She knew he was a vegetarian so she kept his diet to fruits and Veggies, exceptions of fish and chicken of course. She made sure he took care of himself. And of course that the house was taken care of as well.

Stuart got a house close to work so he could walk back and forth everyday and the exercise was good for him. Noodle and his mother both took turns calling him to remind him to eat at certain times of the day. As such he had actually put some weight on his bones and was looking much healthier than he had been all these years. That fat was of course turned to muscle from the walking he did from day to day.

It wasn't until winter rolled around that things were beginning to look down. It occurred to him that this time last year he'd been hostage to one Murdoc Nichols. He found himself thinking about Murdoc more and more as the months grew colder. The more he thought about the demon the more he began to develop some sense of loneliness. He hadn't realized how accustomed he'd become to having the satanist around all the time. He would feel a pang in his heart at moments like these and it would seemingly make no sense to him.

Sometimes in the shower when he would let his mind wander he'd find that the thoughts of those nights would flood over him again. He could almost feel the was the cuffs bit into his hands, the way Murdoc would breath against his flesh. He nearly hear the others groans. And when he would come to he may find his hand wrapped around himself, his opposite forearm pressed against the shower wall for balance. Or perhaps his fingers had strayed back to glide long slender finger across a puckered entrance that was underused these days.

He would blush in spite of himself during times like these and immediately retract his hand. It always ended the same way though. He'd lay in bed, panting and groaning the others name while he stroked himself to climax, and sometimes just pressed against that little nerve inside himself till he fell over the edge, anything to bring him that sense of pleasure that he'd been missing out on for too long now. But it seemed it just wasn't the same without Murdoc there.

Noodle had come over one day to help clean. It was like any other. They moved about the house stuffing left over pop cans, crumbled bags of chips, empty cigarette packs, and dried up beer bottles into garbage bags and then throwing them out. There was nothing different, just like any other cleaning day. Of course it was after Christmas so the mess was slightly worse. It wasn't till they took a break that Stu-Pot realized what was so different.

While Noodle was pouring her tea 2-D noticed a silver band adorning the girls left hand ring finger. He stared at it through a few sips of tea before he asked her what it was for, and where she'd gotten it.

Noodle and Russel were married in the spring, and of course it was 2-D that served as Russ's best man. His mother had been in tears throughout the whole wedding, leaving 2-D in inner shambles. Part of him knew he had to stay there with Russ, but the other part wanted to aid his mother in drying her tears. He managed to stay still however.

Russel had been sweating nervously the whole time and his hands would not stop shaking. He'd almost dropped the ring when trying to put it on the Asian Doll's finger. Noodle was patient with him throughout. And of course eventually there was the kiss. Russ had gulped, tugging at his collar and trying to loosen up his tie. Eventually it was Noodle that had to initiate the kiss.

At the after part it was 2-D that asked Noodle when exactly her and Russel had fallen in love. She explained how they'd been searching for him for so long, and had such little contact with anyone else, that they just became attached. It made sense in its own quirky way.

Russel had taken to speaking with Stuarts father. They were both drinking and having a good old time. Stuart had danced with a few girls at the wedding, lucky him the rhythm all came naturally to music, otherwise he may have stepped on their feet due to his mind wandering so terribly.

At the end of the night he saw off Russel and Noodle Hobbs and then got a ride home from his mother. There was one girl there who had invited him back to her place but he just wasn't feeling it, not at all. In honesty he was afraid if he went home with this girl only to shag her he might not enjoy it.

He'd grown accustomed to the way that Murdoc felt. The way Murdoc touched him and teased him couldn't be replicated. He knew that more than anyone else, and with that said he didn't particularly want to be disappointing, or to disappoint her when she realized he wasn't enjoying it.

That was his fault of course, not hers, but even so she shouldn't have to suffer it. That was one benefit of riding home with his parents. Unfortunately the downfall was that he had to listen to his mother babble on and on about how cute he was dressed up in his suit and his hair slicked back. 'Like a real gentlemen' she said. And if his eyes weren't black it may have been clear he was rolling them.

That night when he got home he undid his tie and let it fall to the ground somewhere between the front door and kitchen. And then he unbuttoned his blazer, throwing it over his dining room table. He unbuttoned the top buttons of his dress shirt and reached into his fridge for a beer which he flopped down on the couch with.

He flipped his Telle on and turned to the news like he often did. It was odd, even more so after everything that he was so obsessed with the bassist. Murdoc had caused him too much pain. So why is it that the entire time he was dancing with those girls he'd just wanted to be with Murdoc.

He could dance with these pretty girls. They were clean and soft, they smelled nice and were very luring. It just didn't suit him anymore. He'd been thinking about Murdoc the whole time. Rough, nasty, disgusting, putrid, terrible Murdoc. He mentally kicked himself for wanting the demon. WANTING HIM! Why the fuck did he want someone like that.

The only reason Stu-Pot even watched the news was because he had this odd hope, that somehow, they will have found Murdoc. He will have done something stupid and gotten himself arrested. That would definitely be on the news if it happened. It will be headlines in the paper and people would be talking about it all over. However it never was the case

The more he thought about Murdoc, the more his hands began to wander. His hand groped with absent mind at his groin, pressing and squeezing through the fabric. A groan shivered over his bottom teeth, passing through the gap at his top gums. He jumped at the noise he made, looking down to his groin.

He took another sip of his beer and sighed, shaking his head to accompany it. This always seemed to happen. Whenever he was alone, whenever he thought about Murdoc. It always seemed to happen. He watched his hand flex and relax, then repeat. He supposed he could. He owed himself at least this much after some of the torment he'd been through. And with how lonely he was beginning to feel it may do him some good.

He failed to watch his volume this night. He rolled and rocked, writhed and withered all over his couch. His voice was loud and nearly at a scream while he worked himself. He did so as he thought Murdoc might, hard and tight, with fast jerky movement. It tugged uncomfortably and chaffed him slightly. Any other treatment just wasn't cutting it however. He brought himself to end with the near violent treatment, screaming loudly into the back of his couch.

His knees had been brought to the cushions and one arm rested over the back. He bit into the couch when he called out, muffling cries of the bassist's name. His climax hit the couch in spurts and he collapsed sideways. He didn't even bother cleaning the mess till the next morning, and he washed his shame down with another bottle of beer.

It was weeks after this that he was walking home from work, as he always did. He'd decided to stop by an old video game store, which wasn't uncommon for him. He liked picking up old second hand games. Something about it made him feel as though he was giving something forgotten a bit of love, and even more so it brought him a sense of nostalgia.

He picked up a few, carrying them home in a paper bag. He held them close while he shuffled back to the house. He had planned to head straight home from the game store. It was a glimpse of green in a back alleyway that caught his attention. He swallowed as he stared at the motionless body of the demon. He couldn't believe what he was seeing and his heart was pounding terribly. He felt a fearful pang.

He approached slowly and cautiously. He knelt by the man and reached his hand down to take hold of his wrist. He placed his fingers to a vein, checking for a pulse. He sighed in relief when he found one and oddly a smile pulled to his face. Then he heard a groan and there was some movement from the mound of drunken devil. His eyes opened. Those black and blood eyes and they fell upon Stu-Pot, just watching him. Wordlessly watching him. Then, after what seemed like forever, he spoke.

"Whe' we'e yew, fffffaceache?" He croaked.

Stuart frowned and knelt to put the mans arm over his shoulder. He lifted him up and began to guide him back to the house. He realized then that he was much healthier than he had been before. Either that or Murdoc had become a lot thinner. Neither of those statements were too far-fetched.

He got the satanist in his front door, setting him down on the couch, first and foremost before shutting his front door. Then he removed his jacket resting it over the demon, sure to keep him warm. His games were set on the coffee table. He ran into the bathroom, beginning to run hot water. He then lay out a towel.

Once more he lifted the other. It was a bit awkward, holding a mumbling Murdoc up in an uncomfortable position while he undressed the other. By the time he'd come home he'd seen Murdoc naked a million times, this was of course nothing new.

Once undressed her guided the man into the water. He took a bar of soap and a washcloth, setting to work on scrubbing the other man clean. He washed every bit of Murdoc, down from his head to his toes, When washing his hair he was sure to keep the greenman's face above the water a not to accidentally drown him.

He drained the tub then wrapped Murdoc in a towel, lifting him up and drying him off fully. He brought him to rest on the couch while he ran up his stairs to retrieve a pair of pajamas. He slipped them onto Murdoc (rather happy he had cleaned the man first). Seeing that they fit generally fine, aside from being too long fro the old demon, he allowed himself to be satisfied.

He watched the other for some time, brushing his hair back and away from his face. He sat on the very edge of the couch, pulling the cover from the back down and over the bassist. He sighed, reaching out to run his hand gently along the others jaw. He wanted o kiss him. Instead he took to playing his video games, anything to entertain himself while the other slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to dish our a second chapter since the last one was short and you're all been waiting so patiently for this story to get a move on.


	12. Mi casa es su casa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shameless smut ahead  
> It's about time

Murdoc didn't wake for some time. He shifted and turned now and again and he mumbled nonsensical jabber in his sleep. Every now and then 2-D would pause his game and looked back to examine the other. He had truly taken it upon himself to take care of Murdoc. Mudsy did take care of him at least when he was in his coma, the least he could do now was return the favor. Then they would be even right? 

That of course wasn't really what this was about. No sir. Stu-Pot seemed to be looking for excuses. Excuses to keep the demon with him as long as possible. Why he couldn't be sure. Well of course he could, but he didn't particularly desire to admit that to anyone, and especially not the demon himself. 

When Murdoc turned for the final time, giving an audible groan to indicate that he was awake, Stuart paused his game and moved back up to the edge of the couch. He brushed Murdoc's hair back and out of his face. His hand then came to rest upon Murdoc's chest, which was covered in the fabric of one of his many 'Hello Kinky' shirts. He gently rubbed the mans chest through this. 

Murdoc's eyes came to open and the rested instantly upon the vocalist. There was silence and Stu-Pot smiled down to him in a very adoring fashion. He was just about to speak to the other, his jaw having fallen to inquire how the other was, when he felt a hard and swift smack across his cheek. 

His head jerked quickly to the side and he fell back, the back of his skull cracking the table as he went. He groaned, his hand moving back to rub the forming bump. He hadn't been expecting that and he'd hardly had time to collect himself when Murdoc was on him again. The demon straddled either side of the singer and his fists came down onto Stuarts cheeks in succession. 

Stuart could only pray they wouldn't swell at this point. He felt his lip burst causing him to screech loudly. He'd been beaten many times before but something had changed since those times, and it dawned on him through that raw packing sound of skin, that he had carried Murdoc all the way here. Murdoc could barely stand, and Stu-Pot had hoisted him up and carried him back, and even through the lower floor of the house. 

With this in mind Stuart grabbed the others wrist, first the right then the left. With a push he had Murdoc off of him, with a pull the green man was standing, and with another push Stuart had the Niccals pinned to the couch. 

"You wiww not hit me in my own 'ome. Do you 'ear me?"

Murdoc stared back at the bluenette in disbelief. His jaw hung open and his mouth fell wide. He couldn't believe the other was holding him down like this. Stuard "2-D" Pot had never so much as swatted a fly, much less than pose a threat to Murdoc. But here he was as though to state his dominance over the green satanist, which Murdoc didn't take kindly to at all.

The bassist tried to struggle away from the blue bird only to be stopped time and time again. Stuart pulled back and gave another hard slam for emphasis. He was eating more often these days, thanks to his mother and Noodle. And with that said it was no wonder he'd grown so able over that time. 

"I shaid yew won' 'it me." There was a pause. He watched the demon seethe through wickedly sharp teeth. Stuart couldn't even hide the shudder while he thought about them sinking into his shoulder. "Now I'm gonna let yew go, an' when Ah do yew aren' gonna 'urt meh, okay?" 

Murdoc didn't reply to this but he didn't make move to struggle anymore. 2-D nodded and but he found his hands didn't unwrap from the others wrist as he said he was going to. Instead he found himself in heavy huffs. His cheeks were still stinging and odd eyes met odd eyes as the two artists stared at each other. D could feel himself beginning to shiver nervously and a familiar pang in his heart. 

He breathed deeply and one hand moved from Murdoc's wrist. It came to gently touch along the demons jaw and trace a tendon in his neck before resting on Murdoc's shoulder. Murdoc grimaced at the gentleness of it. 

"Whaht the fuckin' 'ell ah yew on?" He spat at the other. He didn't appreciate this at all. He was angry with the other. 

He was made and bitter. Stuart had left him after all, ran away with those talentless morons. It was Stuart's fault he'd been drinking himself poisoned every night. It was all Stuart's fault. Had Murdoc not been trying to be better to him? He'd slipped up now and then, sure. But he tried, and he usually succeeded! So what right did 2-dents have to be touching him so sickeningly soft?

"Yew weh pashed out in dah bahk ally an' i fought vat I should bwing yew 'ome." He bit his lower lip with his side teeth. His black eyes searching Murdoc's mismatched orbs. "I wash...shcawed." 

The two stared back at each other for quite some time. Neither of them were really sure what else to say. There was some kind of shifting on 2-D's end, and then another from Murdoc. Slow movements brought them closer. It was 2-D who made any sure movement toward the man. He leaned down, his lips soon inches away from the other. 

"Wha' ag yew tryina do, fffaceache!" Murdoc growled, but it wasn't loud. It wasn't a yell like it could have been. 

Stuart didn't answer, instead his lips connecting to the demons. He kissed firmly, showing the other how demanding he was meant to be. Murdoc pulled back quickly. His eyes widened in what could only be described as shock. His pointed tongue come out to rush over his upper lip before retreating. 

Murdoc wasn't sure what to think. Stuart had wanted to badly to leave, he'd wanted so badly to pass up on Murdoc's love, and even his attempts at affection, all for Noodle and Russ. What had they ever done for 2-D. And yet now the dullard had gotten the bright idea to save Murdoc, when he could have left him to rot, and further more the pain in the ass was being touchy feely! What was all that shit about. 

Unfortunately Murdoc had never been a reasonable person. Reasonably he should be angered at the situation, and he should walk out without another word to the blue jay. Of course that wasn't going to happen. Murdoc was easily swayed by hormones that seemed to not of died down since his teen years. Because of such what happened next was inevitable. 

Murdoc's hand crept up slowly behind Stuart's head, his jagged nails lay upon the back of the singers neck, threatening to dig into the flesh. With a harsh tug the singer was pulled atop him. Their lips collided with a force, their teeth clacking together upon impact. A slender tongue slipped through lips and met with Stu-pot's own through missing teeth. 

The taste was so familiar yet almost forgotten. A mix of bacteria and alcohol that made 2-D melt into Murdoc's body. His chest fell to the others and his mouth fell open to allow the other access into the wet cavern of his oral orifice. His groan was animal, a rugged sound that came from his throat when their tongues would meet, or Murdoc's would occasional brush the exposed gums at the top of his mouth. 

His hips, held tight in low cut skinny jeans, angled downward to grind adamantly against the others. Murdoc responded with a lewd sound as he often did when experiencing any sort of pleasure. Their lips then came to part, a thick strand of saliva still connecting them by Stuarts lips and Saint Niccal's tongue. It was truly a rather disgusting display, but none of them seemed to care either way. 

Murdoc was knowledgeable in the ways of music and of sex, and while he knew Stuart Pot to be clueless in most situations, he held faith that sex was not one of those. This was proven true when Stuart's hands made way to his shirt. He tugged it up and over his head, tossing it to the floor. It was then the Murdoc knew not a word had to be said, they could do this without ever making a coherent noise. 

Murdoc removed his own shirt then, revealing the sickly green skin below and the patch of straight black hair which marked his chest. 2-D's hands found this and rubbed along it. Murdoc took time now to examine Tooey's body. His ribs weren't showing as they had been. He was still tall, and he was lanky in general. But close you could see that bit of meat that he'd been working on putting onto his bones. He was complete with just the tiniest bit of pudge which poked over his jeans. 

This was what Murdoc's hands found. They spanned over the soft stomach, giving it a squeeze. Though he would never admit it, he did indeed jump at the unexpected reaction that the singer gave. It was a wavering noise of pleasure which escaped his vocalist. He stared up a moment before his eyes shifted back down and a dark throaty laughter clawed its way out of him. He rubbed and squeezed one more time for good measure. This time the noise was louder, and when his eyes shifted down a bit more he confirmed that this seemed to be turning the poor dullard on. 

A tent had begun to form beneath the faded blue material of the jeans, leaving Pot squirming uncomfortably in the demons lap. Murdoc grabbed the bluenette's hips, holding him tight and rocking up to grind them together again. 

" I...Ish nah gonnah be enouff wike vat." Came the unsure response from the now nervous Stuart. 

"Shyuuuuduuup. I know watt ahm doin' dullard." The demon hissed. 

2-D shivered at this. It was odd but the insults sounded different, like a loving tease rather than something to hurt his feelings. Even so he was getting tired of waiting for Murdoc to move on. He pulled away, his hips snapping out of Murdoc's grasp. He slid from the others lap, his knees making a 'fwunk' noise as they made contact with the floor. He knelt before the other man and stared up with those empty eyes of his. 

"Eh, whah ah yah doin' down thah, faceache?" he asked, his noise scrunching in confusion. It went without saying he wasn't used to such behavior from the other. 

"Uhm, weww, yew remembeh when yew weh doing vat fing wiff yow mouf, uh...Givehn me 'ead ah mean? Weww, I fink I wanna try it." He was a bit nervous explaining such a thing, or to be more precise, he was unsure how to explain such a thing. 

The smirk which crossed Murdoc's face was sickly. He chuckled and leaned back. Instantly his hands were at work at his belt, getting it off and soon followed by undoing the buttons. 

"I'd be fackin' retahded not tah agree tah thaht. Yew fackin' slut, ready to jump me before ah even get a chance to hardly get to movin'." 

"Don't call me that." Stuart stated, looking up to the green man. 

"What was that?" 

"I shaid don' caww me vat! I mean, ish jush mah opinion buh I wouldn' be sho wude thu veh one vats gonna be shucking yow dick..." he blinks up at the other. He was certainly not as quiet at he used to be in these situations. "...Vey maht jusht bide iht." 

The demon stared in dumbfound at the others words. This only earned him a smirk on 2-D's part. The singer looked down to find the others hands had ceased movement. At this he raised his own and pulled the green and gnarled hands away from the green mans pelvis. He then began to tug at the bassists jeans until they had come mid thigh. As usual Murdoc was going commando. Somewhere deep inside himself he smiled at this, less work for both of them. 

Stu allowed his head to lower down, looking at the oddly colored appendage which was standing semi erect before him. He was suddenly thankful he'd given Murdoc a bath, all things considered. The area was warm, and the heat radiated from it. Stupot licked his lips and opened his mouth. His tongue slipped past naturally chapped lips to brush over the tip, as though to test it. 

The taste of Murdoc's flesh was strong, even after being cleaned. A sort of musky taste, it wasn't pleasant but neither was the taste of the satanists tongue, which was a taste Tooey found he had grown to enjoy. Besides this taste, while unpleasant, was not unbearable. He opened his mouth once more and cautiously lowered himself. The underside rested upon his tongue and his lips wrapped carefully around the muscle. 

A low groan came from within Murdoc's chest when he felt Stuart's hot and damp mouth wrap around the sensitive flesh. It seemed to respond more now than it had in the past. Of course the reason it was so sensitive was purely due to the fact that since Stuart had escaped Murdoc hadn't been sleeping around, he couldn't even masturbate. Nothing seemed to do it for him. And that saliva drizzled cavern was simply too much on the neglected manhood which penetrated it. 

Murdoc's hands found their spot upon Stuarts head, guiding it forward as another primal and instinctive noise left him. It came to his attention now that he was very happy that Stuarts front teeth had been knocked out. They weren't there to get in the way. The soft upper gums gliding pleasantly over the organ made him shudder hard. He adjusted some and tried to coax his jeans down. 2-D's own hands found the waist of them and tugged them down to Murdoc's ankles. 

With no push at all Murdoc's legs fell open to allow the vocalist more room to work, and work he did. His tongue jittered and jostled in his mouth, slipping over the tip of the satanists masculinity. At this the man arched, pushing himself further into his partners mouth. Stuart nearly gagged, though surprisingly he managed to overcome it. Murdoc's fingers slowly spanned into 2-D's hair, tugging at it with a medium strength. 

"F-fuck dullard...s-suck." He spoke, breathing inward which made the words sound airy. He groaned and keened at the treatment from the other as he obeyed. The singers mouth wrapped and he sucked with intent, his head bobbing as well as it could while his hair was receiving rough treatment, punishing to his scalp. 

He could however feel his own erection growing to be a problem while it pressed uncomfortably to the inside of those pants. He whined against the others pride which earned a pleasant sound from above, his own hand retreated to his groin while he palmed himself through fabric in a desperate attempt to soothe himself. The sucking grew harder with the more pleasure he admitted to himself and he only received more incoherent praise from Murdoc. This urged him on further. 

He undid his jeans, first the button, then the zipper. His skin had begun to sweat now, if only from the thought of the situation rather than the work with which accompanied it. He peeled the elastic and fabric of his briefs away from his flesh and he tugged them down, sure that his mouth would never leave his partner wanting. Once they were at midthigh he rested back once more and his hand came to wrap around the blood filled meat which lie between his inner thighs. 

He gave a stroke to himself which brought forth from him a groan of appreciation, a vibrating sound which served to please his god, as it was that Murdoc had arched his back and was thrusting upward once more. He huffed and heaved and his nails dug into Stuart's scalp, and the bluenette only found he didn't mind. Surely no pain could bring him away from the pleasure. His hand began to work quickly, tugging the skin lightly upward, giving that uncomfortable and dry jerk which he'd come to love so much. He could feel himself pounding in his hand, and in unison the sickly green partner pounding inside his mouth. He only groaned more at this. 

Soon Two's movements had become a frantic frenzy. He'd been experimenting with his tongue, curling the tip to press into the length and flattening it at the tip, sometimes even dipping it into the softer and more flexible opening to the urethra. Everything he was figuring out seemed to serve Murdoc well, which if he was being honest was making him feel very prideful. He felt the other pound again when he picked up just that much more speed. 

"T...two...d..dee.." The man over him groaned. "F...fuck...don' move... M'gonnah fackin' blow...I...ahhh!!" His sharp teeth clenched down hard. He doubled, his body seemingly wrapping over the singers head, pushing it down and forcing him to take it to the back of his throat, which was warm and slippery. He could feel Stuart gag around him, the thrat contracting and compressing, such a pleasant feeling. If he were anyone other than Murdoc he may have been concerned with the choking and panicked noises his partner was making. But the noises were so sexy and the motions felt so good. The bassist could only stay tight muscled while he pumped shot after shot into the vocalists mouth. 

On Stuarts end the experience was much different than what he had first thought. He felt the pressure at the back of his head. His nose was pressed into a thick tuft of black hair, and furthermore crushed against the sharp pelvic bone which the demon possessed. This limited his breathing. He found this to only be exciting. More blood rushed to his manhood, bringing it to a painful hardness, his grip on which grew tighter. He jerked and yanked at it faster and faster while he sucked the others pride. The liquid which poured into his mouth was thick and copious. He was certainly surprised that it wasn't drizzling out his nose as he choked it down, even through such his sucking continued. He groaned and moaned against it while the other climaxed. 

As the scene calmed down so did 2-D's stroking. He slowed it down and while he hadn't cum quite yet he was too occupied with satisfying the god on his couch. Once he was sure the last bit had been milked from the satanist he pulled back and looked up to the other. He heaved in breaths as did the man above, who returned the warn look. 

Murdoc watched the blue's hand continue to work at the blood swollen flesh beneath his legs. Stuart truly looked pitiful like that, looking up to him with such need. What kind of person would Murdoc be to not take pity on someone so needy? But it was at this time that he spied a pack of cigarettes sitting on the coffee table next to the controller 2-D had, up until Murdoc woke up, been playing with. Satan below he certainly needed one of those right now. His attention turned to Stuart. 

"Tell yah wahtt, Dullahd. You get meh all worked oop again ahnd I'll take some mighty good care ah yah. In the mean time..." He leaned over to grab the pack of cigarettes. Retrieving one he lay back and placed it between his lips. 

On reflex 2-D's hand retreated to his jean pocket, a bit difficult given their position, and retrieved a lighter which he handed to Murdoc. He seemed to be thinking the offer over even as his strokes became slow, just enough to keep him achingly hard. He did want Murdoc to finish him off, the idea was more than tempting. He nodded his head and lowered it again. 

Murdoc took the first inhale of the fag, as Stuart lowered down to (not the now flaccid muscle but instead) two round orbs which also rest between Murdoc's thighs. He tilted his head to the side, quirking it. His tongue tested one ball, gliding over it. He huffed, closing his eyes. He could feel himself swelling to an uncomfortable girth once more. 

Murdoc groaned and his eyes peered down to lock on the bluenette, watching his work from above. The groan which shivered over his raw vocal cords was one of bliss, as blissful at least as one such as Murdoc Niccals can get. His tongue darted out to lick his lips before he took a long drag from his cigarette. Stuart certainly was being creative tonight. 

Stu-Pot started at those sack covered spheres, lapping at them while he stroked and pulled at himself. His eyes closed for a moment as hot breath spanned between the bassist's legs. And without warning Stuart sucked one of those sensitive rounds into his mouth, his tongue beating over it in rhythm. Murdoc's groans mixed with smoke and the room filled with his noise and smog. The prick which stood in front of 2-D was beginning to come to life once more and he licked from ball up the shaft, his tongue slipping and gliding until it met with the tip. His mouth wrapped around the sensitive tip, sucking down for only a moment. He moved off with an audible popping sound, licking back down to the other orb and repeating the treatment. 

Murdoc was becoming lathered heavily in the saliva that was spilling from the dullards mouth. His eyes found Stuarts and he took note of the hazy and pleasure distant look in the bluenette's eyes. It was enough to die for. He leaned foreward, smashing the cigarette into the ashtray, though in too much of a rush to put it out fully. A trickle of smoke still rose from it. 

He stayed low enough as he withdrew to whisper to 2-D. A gruff voice, quiet and quite demanding. He gripped the back of the others head as he commanded and called for. The words were delicious venom. 

"On mahy dick. M'gettehn tihed of waiting..." 

He didn't need to be told twice, Stuart leaped up, wobbling as he did so, since his pants were still partway on. He took a second to kick out of them and the satanist followed lead, abandoning his own in favor of nudity. 

Once the obstacles had been removed from the equation 2-D quickly straddled Murdoc's lap, his own legs being placed on either side of the demon. The green sinner spat into his hand, not wasting time because he was needy and wanton of the blue birds body. He brought the saliva covered hand behind his partner, placing a digit to the entrance. 

"Wh...whait, yow nailsh wiww get in veh way." 2-D pipped up with worry. He became all too aware of the last time Murdoc had tried that. 

" Yeah well, if ah don' stretch yah none ihs gonnah hurt like a beeitch." Murdoc half barked. His impatience was getting the best of him again. 

"N-no ih won' caushe Ahff been... uh, Ahff been doen iht tah mahshelf." He flushed at this, his button nose and cheeks turning pink. 

Murdoc seemed flabbergasted once more. His mouth hung open, gaping like a codfish at the statement. With a clearing of his throat his jaw snapped shut again. His manhood now sprung to a full life, aching at the thought of Stuart touching himself and how that might look. His mouth began to water at the thought. He swallowed and looked down a moment. 2-D need say no more. 

Partly the saliva was lathered onto 2-D, and the half was spread over Murdoc's prick in one swish down, and a second up. He smiled wickedly and his mouth opened. His long tongue curled with a sinister intent. Hand retreated to pale hips when he pushed the singer down onto his throbbing and woken notice. 

Moans filled the air when he slid into the blue haired beau above him. He held those hips tight and began to rock. He didn't spare time working up to a speed he simply found it. It was rough and hard, partially too quick. Unspoken proof that he was inpatient and far too driven by desire. Of course Stuart didn't seem to be put off by this at all.

His own hand found shoulder and hes steadied himself of his knees. With a spring and a shift he found his bounce. He worked in unison with the other, the pulls having a lingering effect and the pounds hitting harder with their combined strength. 

The room was a concert of Cries and moans as they panted and huffed, tiring out within the first minute or two. They were over working it surely, but Stuart was in need, and Murdoc had found his singer again. 

"M- Muhdoch~!" The boy blue whined the name loudly as the head of the member brushed over a hardened bushel of nerves. 

Murdoc's hand left one hip to guide the small of Stuart's back inward, that bundle of nerves being easier exposed and certainly in danger of being hit. It was all white light when the demon would brush against it, sending tingles and a mind numbing ecstasy through the front mans body. 

Murdoc was beginning to shake now, feeling every grove and motion that Stuart gave. The sensations ran from his groin and spanned out into the rest of his form. He was shivering like a leaf, gritting his teeth and swallowing hard when his eyes met with 2-D's. 

The key boardest had returned his hand to his member and was stroking himself, tugging in that too harsh fashion and bouncing in time. His own remaining teeth grit hard and he through his head back to whine up into the air while he approached his climax. 

"RIght vere, vat'sh iht Muhdach...Foock yesh, hahdah, pweashe mowe. Gohdsh fookin' dahmmet...Ahhnnnn!!!" Murdoc could hear a high shriek from the singer when climax over took him. Blue locks were thrown back and he convulsed with the forst. His body shaking and shivering atop of Murdoc was just enough to push the bassist of the edge. He tugged the man close, his head forced to D's chest while he climaxed. 

He released his load into the worn out artist, not as bad as it could of been, considering he'd just been drank down by 2-D not moments earlier. He shuddered in delight at the feeling when he released into the younger man. Thrusting upward he made to empty the remains into the other which caused 2-D to groan in wear. 

When movement ceased and it became only their breaths while they held each other with their hands, a gap still between their upper torsos, they fell to the side and onto the couch where they pulled together. Start lay half way atop of the green man, in an attempt not to go tumbling off the couch. His head found Murdoc's chest and his hand as well. He rubbed circles against the satanist's flesh while he looked at nothing particular. He could feel Murdoc's hand wrapping around him to rub his back soothingly, though the dry finger tips were rough. 

"So whaht made yah wanna do all thaht? I thought yew 'ated me." The saints voice was but a whisper, making 2-D's flesh break out in goosebumps. 

He sighed, his blackened eyes turning up to look at the satanist as he spoke. He turned back down and rest his head once more. 

"...I don't know...Ah acchuawwy shtawted tah mish yew." An eyebrow rose with Murdoc's curiosity. "When I shaw yew I fink I bwaught yew 'ome mowe fow mysewf ven fow yew." 

The two were silent once more, listening to the ambiance about the house that you only here when the rest of the neighborhood has gone to sleep and your laying down, doing nothing but breathing. 

In a strange sort of way this all made sense to Murdoc, after all he had kidnapped, beaten, raped, tortured, and even killed 2-D. Why in the world would the Bluenette rescue him, simply for his sake. No, but there was another answer. 

While Murdoc was in prison he took a medical course, but he also studied secondary in psychology. Which helped him of course explain a few things about himself. Things he didn't really care about of course, but they made for a good sob story, and Murdoc loved being the center of attention, so he used it to his advantage. But it seemed those studies were beginning to show themselves useful in a whole new light, and a way Murdoc would have most certainly never though them useful. He would thank Satan for bringing this to his attention, if of course he hadn't done it all on his own. That raging flamer had no hand in his knowledge of this...outstanding circumstance. 

While it was clear that Stuart hadn't brought Murdoc there because he was afraid for Murdoc's health, it could very well be that the vocalist was suffering from a very severe case of Stockholm, in which case it would mean that Murdoc was brought into his home because -and ONLY because- Stuart pot himself felt (somewhere deep inside) that he could not live without Murdoc. 

Normally this would bring a smile to Murdoc's face, a wicked grin which would twist and pull the sides of his mouth into aged wrinkles that were somewhere on the border lines of mortal and no longer human. But it did not. And the bassist could only stare down with a pang in his heart -which he had decided he did indeed still have- and a sickness in his stomach. 

If Stuart did indeed have Stockholm then it would mean he was suffering from what was both a serious mental and emotional condition. And while Murdoc wanted nothing more than for the singer to be in love with him, he wished it wasn't due to such circumstances. 

The way he'd always imagined their relationship was sort of like another one of his sick fantasies. Stuart begging him, throwing himself at the bassist, trying to impress the bassist. And Murdoc all the while would have push him off all day, poked fun at him. And at the end of the day he would pull Stuart into a room, undress him, and fuck him senseless, then act like he was doing the dullard a favor. It seemed however, that that was not how it would turn out. 

He was brought out of his train of thought when the singer rubbed his chest and lifted off his chest some. 

"I should get goin', dullard. 'For someone finds me 'ere." he gave a nod of confirmation and made to sit up, only to be stopped by a hand pressing on his chest and guiding him back down. 

"Stay wiff me?" There was a long pause. A lingering uneasiness hung between them in thick veils which seemed neither to budge or sway. "Pleashe?...I don' wan yew tah leaf, I 'ave enough room in 'ere for us boff." 

"Russ and Noodle would never let me do thaht, Yew should know better, faceache." But the frontman wasn't having it. 

"Pleashe? Pleashe?" He quickly rolled to mount the other mans lap. Murdoc remained laid on the couch, Stu-pot straddling his lap. "I'ww tawk tew vem, okay? I'ww wo'k shomefing out." 

While Murdoc wanted to argue, mostly for the sake of arguing rather than really caring what the fuck those two thought, he didn't. That desperate terrified look on the bluenettes face was enough to make his heart pound and ache with hurt. He breathed in through his nose, sighing out and then licking his lips. His eyes shifted once more to the singers. 

"Okay..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I was hoping to get this story all wrapped up on the seventh, however I have still been pretty crammed with everything going on over here. As a result I am not getting things done as quickly as I would like to, but I promise that there will be new chapters whenever I can get to it. I will be wrapping up within the next few months, that I know, but I still have so much to do with Murdoc and 2-D that I know I won't meet the deadline I'd set for myself. But you know what, that's okay. It will give me a bit more time to work out story line and when I do it only means more for all of you.
> 
> So hang in there because Stuart and Murdoc have one more bridge they have to cross before they can ever make it to stable ground.


End file.
